Olympus Apocrypha
by kujikiri21
Summary: Six years ago, America was rocked with a rash of unexplained deaths, followed by a fire that almost consumed an entire city. The cause of each was unknown. The only survivor, knew too well what had caused it. Now, years later, after the Titanomachy, Percy's past has returned. Let the Holy Grail War begin anew one last time. Marble!Percy. Apocrypha Grail War setup.
1. Chapter 1

Olympus Apocrypha

A PJ and FsN semi-fusion  
More of a PJ world with a concept and a few pieces of a magical system from Type-Moon  
Pre Heroes of Olympus and slightly AU

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Type-Moon

* * *

It has been almost a year.

Almost a year since brother had fought brother, lover had battled lover.

Since Gods and Titans had quarrelled and clashed once more, seeking to determine the order of the world.

Sly Kronos, the Crooked One, King of the Titans, had managed to, insidiously, take a half-blood host, sweet poison dripping into the boy's ear, too damaged to take a form of his own, from which he would slowly gain power, until he could erupt from the host, tearing it asunder, and walk the world once again.

He had roused his brethren, the monsters, the dissatisfied, drawing them to his banner. He had spoken of a Golden Age, without hunger or strife, beneath his rule. No unclaimed demi-gods, whose parents will ignore them. Seats and thrones amongst his court for even the lowest deity, those who had been ignored and looked down upon by the Olympians.

In short, he promised a new world, a peaceful world. A Golden Age.

It was all a lie.

Kronos knew nothing of building or peace, only destruction, mayhem and tyranny. None would be spared his vicious power beneath his iron fist, save if it served him better to do so. The demi-gods, so full of hope, would have become slaves and chattel to the Titans, playthings for their amusement, much as the mortals would be. The Gods, mainly Kronos' children or grandchildren, would have been cast down into Tartarus, feeling the punishments of an age, in a second, before it was endlessly repeated.

The Gods, the Olympians, were unprepared for the assault, the beginning of a second Titanomachy, centuries, even millennia, of arguments, disagreements and quarrels between them hampering their preparations until it was almost too late. Thankfully, they had resources that the Titans didn't, despite the way they had acted, so confident in their own strength, which had meant almost nothing in the end.

A turning point in the war, where the Olympians had been forced to abandon Olympus in order to battle a foe that their last defence could not, leaving the way open for the forces of the Crooked One to break the seat of their power. The last defence, often overlooked, had stood tall, protecting Olympus.

They were called half-bloods.

Demi-gods of this modern era, born of the union of mortal and deity. Some them had little power, barely beyond a normal human. But others...

They had ability to rival the gods themselves.

Due to the Ancient Laws, Gods were often unable to perform certain tasks, the restrictions they had in return for their own power. Half-bloods, also called heroes, didn't have that problem. In the words of a ancient centaur:

_"A hero can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as he has the nerve."_

As such, they were often the hands of the Gods, performing duties in the name of Olympus, called 'Quests', and defending it to their last breath, despite the ignorance, arrogance and callousness of those high above.

The Crooked Titan had managed to sway some of the dissatisfied children of the Gods, and even some of the 'minor', if such a term can be applied, Gods to his side, quite a few if the Olympians were to be brutally honest.

But the loyal few, outnumbered greatly, had stood before the waves of horrors, of their wayward brothers and sisters, of the freed Titans, stalwart in their duty to protect the home of their parents.

Though many had fallen, though many were wounded, though only the slimmest of hopes of victory had remained at the end, they had fought and bled.

And, eventually, they were victorious.

Then the tiring task of rebuilding had begun.

Through the mercy of one particular half-blood, those Gods and half-bloods that had fought on the side of Kronos had been absolved of all wrong doing, their actions, through the emerald eyes of the boy, had seemed to be their only recourse to gaining respect and recognition in the current political climate amongst Olympus. Tired of the fighting, the green eyed boy had given up a chance of immortality, the greatest prize of all, to ensure that such a war amongst Olympus would not happen again.

Thrones to the minor gods were erected in Olympus, even Hades had received his well deserved Throne amongst the Council. Cabins at Camp Half-blood, the training camp and safe haven for the children of the Gods, were also being built, where before only the Olympian Council had had them, often leading to the minor Gods not claiming their own children, due to them having nowhere to go.

These children, from both sides of the war, now enjoyed their own place to call their own.

Olympus was also being rebuilt. The damage Kronos had done to it, probably out of spite and hatred, on the way to the throne room had been tremendous. Palaces, gardens, statues, shrines, stores and even the golden path had been rent asunder and crushed and broken beneath his gleeful rage. Thankfully, a certain daughter of Athena had been given the task of rebuilding it, and so far the Gods had been pleased, often commenting that what was being repaired, or even replaced if it was too far gone, was better than it was before. Even the almighty Zeus had, grudgingly, given his pleased acknowledgement and respect to the girl child.

Mother and daughter had been pleased beyond measure.

They were not finished as yet, it would still need a year or two's more work before it was finally finished, but the Gods, even the more volatile, a certain Lord of War and Lady of Doves to name but a few, were willing to be patient, awaiting the final stone to be laid before returning to abide there on a more permanent basis. They all had places in the mortal world to live until everything was done anyway.

Monster hunting had also been a part of the rebuilding. The army of Kronos had scattered to the winds, but still remained in large enough groups as to be a threat to even the best trained and powerful half-blood, often hiding in the nooks and crannies of New York City. A week after the war had ended, a force was mobilised to sweep the city clean of monsters, Hunters and Campers alike joining in.

It had taken a few days, but thankfully there were no casualties, at least among the half-bloods, and New York City was confirmed to be thoroughly cleansed of monstrous filth. The Hunters of Artemis, when they left camp a week later, were tasked with chasing down the few that had escaped the city after the battle. They had happy to do so as, despite being comrades in arms, the Hunters were not the most comfortable around those not of the Hunt, though they had developed a decent sense of camaraderie with even the male campers due to shared experiences in the war. Thus, unlike the last few times they had visited and left the camp, there were no arguments or sighs of relief, merely a 'farewell and good luck'.

Artemis was even contemplating a yearly visit to the camp, just so that this camaraderie could be maintained, as it had brought out some skills and strengths she hadn't seen in her handmaidens for quite some time. Contrary to belief, she wasn't a man hater, but more of a person who only experienced and seen the worst in men, which had then passed down to her Hunters as hate. Hopefully this link between camp and hunt could be maintained so as to keep her adopted children on the correct path.

As stated before, almost a year had passed since the end of the war, and now it was the time of the summer solstice. A time when the Gods gathered for a great meet. As Olympus, and more specifically the Throne Room, was not yet repaired, it had been decided to use Camp Half-blood as the meeting place, an idea that had proven viable at the winter solstice and had been well received by God and half-blood alike.

The after party had also given a chance for the Gods to mingle with their children without butting heads against Ancient Laws, which created good will amongst both parties. There was even talk amongst the Council of permanently moving one of the solstice meetings to Camp Half-blood and keeping the other on Olympus once it was truly rebuilt.

So far, even Zeus was finding it hard to come up with any meaningful objections to the idea. Though he would never say it aloud, or truly admit it to himself, the distance between half-blood and God had been one of the contributing factors to the Second Titanomachy. While it was necessary to keep a distance between them, the Gods did have duties to attend after all, this meeting, if it was kept as a long term commitment, would act as a safety valve, ensuring that even the most foolish of half-blood would know that their actions were appreciated and that their parent knew them, thus leading to a minimum of friction. It would even be able to keep the more rambunctious of his children, Apollo and Hermes, a bit more on the controlled side in order to show themselves as decent, for an Olympian, parents.

That alone, would be worth it to the King of the Skies, as those two gave him headaches at the best of times, anything that could reduce those migraines would welcome in his opinion, even if the Laws had to be bent a little.

It was early evening when the solstice meeting got under way. The sun had set, leaving Apollo free to arrive and mingle and the moon had yet to rise, making it possible for the Goddess of the Hunt to be there to curb her twin brother excessive skirt chasing, especially of the half-bloods watching on.

In order to make a lasting impression, the Gods had decided to move their thrones, placing them around the great fire in the middle of their cabins, lining them up with said cabins. They were at their true immortal height, each of them easily over ten feet tall as they reclined on their thrones, awaiting their King to declare the meeting open.

Another difference, compared to earlier years, was the inclusion of several demi-gods standing at the side of their seated parent or patron. Save for Zeus and his wife, Hera, all of the Olympians had someone at their side.

Percy Jackson, a half-blood of Poseidon, and someone who had achieved great acclaim in his brief life so far, was troubled as he stood beside his seated father.

The meeting hadn't yet been called to order, as neither Zeus nor Hera were yet in attendance, thus letting the parents of the various half-bloods talk softly with their children, something that Percy would normally have enjoyed, but something put him on edge, a feeling in the air that seemed somehow familiar to him, but couldn't seem to place a finger on.  
He kept checking around, trying to place the feeling, scratching the back of his hand absently.

"What the Styx is up with you, Prissy?" a gruff female voice spoke, slightly mocking but with a degree grudging respect.

Percy turned to the speaker, not noticing the inquiring gaze of his father and that of a former enemy, Ares, the father of the speaker.

Clarisse la Rue, daughter of the war god, and councillor of the cabin, raised an eyebrow at the son of the sea god. Her tall and muscular body stood straight but relaxed, leaning on her spear slightly. To Percy she was a bit of a frienemy, they could get along if they needed to, and there was certainly a degree of respect between them, but they also rubbed each other the wrong way at times. Their different viewpoints on subjects often clashing, Clarisse's aggressive opinions often opposing his own forgiving and understanding stances.

Outside of these arguments, however, they were decent enough friends, often clashing in the arena for a bit of fun.

The clashes honestly reminded Percy of the days before coming to camp. Though _those_ days had been a lot more harrowing, even if they only lasted less than a month, comparable only slightly to the war that had just finished less than a year ago.

It had been what he had experienced in those days that had allowed him to push through the twisted kingdom of the Olympians, enabling him to battle foes that should have been so far beyond him that it was insane.

"I'm not sure," he answered quietly, still not noticing the overhearing Gods as he spoke quietly to Clarisse, "there is a...feeling in the air," he said groping blindly for an adequate answer, trying to put into words what he felt, "a disturbance. Like something has changed, broken and was released."

He shook his head, familiarity scratching at his mental doors, driving him nuts as he tried to divine what he felt.

"It feels so familiar," he kept explaining, a frown and a scowl now on his face, the listening Gods now not even attempting to hide their curiosity. Even Ares as, despite his dislike of the brat, he knew him to be a better than decent fighter, with a set of rather powerful instincts, though how he applied them was unorthodox at best.

See killing the Nemean Lion through use of space food as a good example.

That said, if the kid could feel something wrong, chances are something _is_ wrong. Ares sat up straighter, his hand idly hovering near his spear. When everything went to Tartarus, if the kid's instinct was correct, he would be ready to lay the smackdown. With great relish.

It had been too peaceful for his taste lately, anyway.

He kept an ear on the conversation as well, eager to hear a few more details. His wasn't a complete war-mongering idiot, he knew 'knowledge was power', he just liked knowledge that he could apply rather than reading a hoard of books and not do anything with what they contained.

"Familiar how?" the daughter of war snorted quietly, " and are you sure you just didn't have too many burritos for dinner?"

Perseus rolled his eyes, "I'm not even that fond of burritos," he retorted, "and I'm honestly not sure how," he sighed heavily, rubbing his temple with a hand, "look, just keep an eye out. Call me paranoid if you want, but we've been through hell and back the last few years, and the Gods are off of Olympus at the moment, with their Thrones in tow. If someone wanted to attack, there might not be a better time to do so, even if they are at their full power the moment they are seated. Break their thrones and it will break their power, it was one of the reasons the Crooked Bastard wanted to get his ass on Olympus in the first place. Spread the word to the other reps, but for Olympus' sake, keep it quiet. If someone attacks, I want them thinking that they're not going to walk into a trap to do so."

The three listening to him could hear the change in his voice as he spoke, the sarcastic child of Poseidon disappearing behind the persona of the leader Clarisse and the other half-bloods had followed into battle. Obviously he was serious.

"Fine," Clarisse grunted, understanding the orders given, if they could be called that, and was willing to do so, but needing to maintain an image of toughness, "but you owe me for this, Prissy."

"Put it on my tab," he grunted back as she ambled away, letting him scratch the irritated back of his hand again, for some reason it felt like it was heating slightly, as he delved back into thought.

"Perseus?" his father's voice questioned, stopping him from dropping deep into thought.

"Yes, Father?" he answered just as questioningly, his eyes idly drifting to where Clarisse was seemingly idly chatting to the Councillors of Hermes, Hephaestus and Apollo cabin, visible lines of tension in their shoulders followed by glances in his directions, receiving a subtle nod from him, before they seemingly burst into quiet laughter, relaxing their stances, and all collectively moved to the other reps on the opposite side of the fire, Clarisse also stopping and ruffling Nico's hair with a few accompanying words, causing the Ghost King to frown and brush off the hand with a scowl. Though Percy noticed he hand drifted within easy reach of his Stygian Iron sword.

Who knew a child of Ares could play the 'spy game'?

"Is something the matter?" the usually laid back God of the Sea asked, his hand resting near his symbol of power. He knew his son relatively well, and he wasn't one to alarm himself about nothing. Perhaps it would be best to err on the side of caution.

"Nothing that I can put a finger on," his son admitted, scratching the back of his hand again almost absently, "but something just doesn't feel right."

Poseidon eyed his son out of the corner of his sea green eyes, matching his son's own. He nodded slightly and merely held himself relaxed and ready. His ichor pumping in his veins, ready to fight. He may not feel what his son could, but he would trust his son. He had yet to fail him, and probably would never do so.

Perseus noticed Clarisse returning to her father's side and looked toward the cabin reps opposite him, ignoring the Gods already seated. His eyes glanced over them, their subtle nods coming in unison with the meeting of his eyes. Good, they were ready to move when, or if, necessary. Even Drew, the head of Aphrodite cavern.

"Done," Clarisse grunted out quietly as she came along side him again, "everyone is ready to move. Honestly, I hope your wrong, Prissy. A fight I can handle, but defending the thrones? That may be asking a bit much."

"We'll have to see," he responded just as quietly, "but I hope I'm wrong too. But when has hope ever been on our side?"

Clarisse grunted in agreement, readying her spear idly again. Her eyes glanced down though and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I didn't know you were into tattoos, Perce," she grinned slightly, "I have to say it looks pretty badass though. Could be better though."

Percy looked at her confused, before following her gaze to his itchy hand, "what do you mean?" he asked, looking at the back of his left hand for the first time that night, "I don't have a- guhhhh!"

His words halted, his throat freezing, as his eyes registered something that shouldn't have been there, _couldn't_ have been there.

On the back of his hand, glowing a soft crimson light, that was barely visible, was an odd tribal marking. Three vertical wavy lines, like something you would see representing fire or water in a child's drawing. Not the most badass he had ever seen, but that was beside the point.

It was what they represented that had his breath catching in his throat, in complete shock and denial. Even as he mind tried to deny what he was seeing, his brain forced him put the pieces together.

The glow of the stigmata. The oddly heavy weight in the air, so similar to his eldest uncle's presence, but without the heavy malice. That familiar feeling of the ethereal, that he hadn't felt for so long, buried in the memories of his youth.

"Impossible," he whispered, looking at the glowing brand intensely, as if it would fade under the weight of his glare, "this shouldn't be possible. The damn thing was _destroyed_," his voice was now a quiet hiss of absolute rage and hate, shocking the two gods and the half-blood within hearing distance, having never heard the sheer amount of negative emotion in the young man's voice before.

"Percy," his father asked, more urgently this time. Something had disturbed his son greatly, making him feel on the edge of rage.

Before he could talk more, everything went to hell.

The next minute was a blur of events, each of them happening so fast, one after another.

The first two happened almost simultaneously. Zeus and Hera, arriving together, finally appeared, standing majestically in front of their suddenly appearing thrones, The second event, happened only to the son of Poseidon, the scent of power, similar to an ape or monkey that he had the misfortune of being close enough to smell in a zoo once, grazing across his senses, making him stiffen up, his nightmares confirmed.

The next was just as fast, a small monkey, looking like a macaque, suddenly appearing next to the fire, letting out a loud screech before Zeus or Hera could say a word, startling everyone and drawing their attention.

Except for an alert Percy, his senses already picking up the next action and preparing his own.

The scent of monkey increased sharply as Percy's sharp eyes, even blinded by the combination of flames and the early darkness saw the glint of metal from over Hades shoulder.

By some inborn instinct, he knew that Hades was not the target of whatever it was, but rather the God of the Underworld's youngest brother and his wife.

Percy knew he didn't have many options, everyone else was still startled by the monkey's screech and it's sudden appearance. Most of what he knew would be of little help against what this foe was. He would need to draw on something he barely used anymore. Something he hadn't used since _those_ days.

If he had time, he would have found it appropriate that he used it in almost the same situation as he had used it before.

He focused quickly, a mental of a water drop appearing in his mind and he let it fall. Fall towards the water beneath it. When it struck, the ripples were felt by him, awakening something in his body, in his soul.

His body felt alive, almost burning with suppressed power, as he uttered words that had not crossed his lips in since June of the summer before he turned eleven.

"Burst...on" he whispered harshly.

The effect was immediate.

His body was filled with power, channeling itself into his muscles, his bones, his sinews, his nerves. Making them stronger, faster, more efficient. Reinforcing them to the limit.

Then he _moved_.

His body shot forward, almost a blur to many of the observers eyes.

Except for one.

The glint of metal expanded sharply in size, erupting over the shoulder of Hades, aiming for the still surprised forms of the King and Queen of Olympus, past the still shocked and surprised forms of mortals and immortals alike.

It would be a race between the child of the sea and the blurring, extending, form of the weapon, to see who would arrive at the side of the Royal Couple first.

Unfortunately for Percy, despite it having the longer path and his relatively close proximity, the missile was fast enough, much faster than him, and would strike them before he could arrive there.

Considering the power he could feel emanating from the weapon, it would no doubt kill them if it struck them, probably piercing through them. Their unprepared and distracted state not helping matters.

That was not acceptable to the child of the ocean.

Another phrase spilled from his lips, one that was part of who he is, a single line that represented a portion of his soul.

"_I bear the burden of my life_," his voice rushed out, rippling in the air, distorting it.

He suddenly felt lighter, even less than a feather, as the world seemed to slow to a crawl. Allowing him to see the achingly slow shifting of expressions from surprise to shock, on the faces of Zeus and Hera, as they slowly seemed to see the approaching missile.

A glance at it from Percy showed that it was blunt, and still moving quickly, but had slowed enough for him to catch up and overtake it. The glint of metal had been a thick band of gold, just below the tip, wrapping around the smooth black shaft. It extended all the way back to where it originated, in the trees a long way behind Hades Throne.

To Percy, it looked like an oversized quarter staff, even if it was a bit thicker.

But that didn't matter at the moment. The lives of the King and Queen did.

Even as he analysed, he moved, faster than before, drawing Anaklusmos as he went.

He was now at his ruler's side, but he didn't stop there, the staff was too close and the couple too slow to react. So he did the only thing he could.

Turning his sprint into a charge, he shoved the two deities out of the line of fire with his shoulder, knocking them away and onto the ground from his sheer speed and velocity, despite them being larger than he.

In the same movement, he used the momentum to of the shove to spin into a crouch, a full circle, before rising up and swinging his sword in a diagonal slash to meet the shaft of the staff.

CLANG!

The sound of metal meeting metal rang out as his sword met it. Percy grunted at the power behind the weapon, feeling that it was much heavier than it looked, but, with a yell of effort, and the crushing of the earth below his feet, forced it above and away from his left shoulder, redirecting it away from anyone and anything.

The world began to speed up again as the staff kept going, thanks to his release of the spell with a sigh of relief, but kept himself ready with the reinforcement and weapon ready

He had managed it. He had saved them.

CRASH!

He winced inwardly as he heard the loud sound of stone being crushed under a great weight with great force. A glance back revealed the reason and caused him to wince outwardly.

The staff may have been redirected away from anyone and the Thrones, but there was still something that it could strike. A large building, a cabin in fact. The white marble columns were crushed by the force of the missile and the large bronze doors still sparking with lightning, were smashed inward into the building and off their hinges, smashing the ten foot statue of the cabin's patron to pieces. If that wasn't enough, with the marble supports gone, the domed roof had collapsed, crushing whatever had survived the initial assault.

All in all, the cabin was now a _wrecked_ cabin.

_Zeus' wrecked _cabin.

"Styx," Percy summed up his current situation.

Resolutely, he turned to face the source of the violently extending staff, merely shifting his head to the side as it retracted in a blur, passing by him and ruffling his hair. He also winced as he heard more crumbling stone.

Hopefully he could explain to his uncle that the damage to his cabin wasn't his fault.

A glance at his uncle, who was still sprawled beside his wife, didn't give him much hope. The King of the Skies eyes crackled and blazed with lightning as he stared at his ruined cabin from where he lay. Unfortunately, he seemed to have seen every single moment of the destruction of his prized cabin.

Maybe he could die painlessly in the encounter to follow and avoid his wrath?

"Yeah," he muttered to himself, turning back to the trees behind his other uncle's throne, watching for the emergence of the culprit from the foliage, "like I'm that lucky."

* * *

Zeus was many things. King of the Gods. Extremely powerful. Devilishly Handsome.

This named but a few of his positives.

However, he also had more than a few bad points.

Selfish. Power-hungry. Paranoid. Arrogant and prideful, though to be fair this applied to just about all immortals, to one degree or another.

Let us focus on the last one, shall we?

The King of the Gods had just arrived at the meeting spot, fashionably late of course, with his beautiful wife, ready to listen to his subjects praises and other, not so important details.

When they had arrived, before he could open his mouth to speak, the wild and shrill call of an ape had echoed in the area, drawing his attention in surprise, shock and annoyance to the source, a dirty ape squatting beside the hearth, near a just as surprised Hestia.

He had been just about to smite the filthy monkey for daring to speak out, when he had suddenly felt something moving swiftly, faster than almost anything he had seen, moving though the air. A glance up in shock showed him the butt of a black staff, with golden caps, little more than three metres in front of him, aiming for his throat.

In shock, he tried to move, but knew he was too slow, as the staff approached its target.

Before he could do more, he felt himself violently shoved sending him soaring into his wife, knocking them both down and out of the way of the staff missile. Thankfully, for his wife, he managed to move himself in mid air slightly, so as to land on his back beside her, rather than on top of her.

This, however, allowed him to see a scene of carnage and desecration that sent his temper sky-rocketing.

The staff had continued past him at a different angle, obviously deflected from it's previous path, and struck his cabin.

His now utterly destroyed cabin.

His face like a thundercloud, angered beyond belief at a cabin he had painstakingly designed himself, despite his limited knowledge of architecture, from base to roof. Paid for from his own pocket and crafted from the most expensive and high quality materials he could find. A cabin that even he, himself, the King of the Gods, had dirtied his own hands, working beside lesser men, mere mortals, to build.

And now it was destroyed!

He glared, lightning shining in his eyes, at what he thought was the source of the destruction, ignoring the staff that retracted past the boy's shoulders, disappearing into the forest behind his eldest brother.

Perseus Jackson. That damned sea spawn.  
He rose to his feet, towering above his now damned to Tartarus nephew and readied his voice and power to smite the boy, when he was interrupted by the roar of laughter from the forest, echoed by the ape beside the fire.

"Well isn't this a surprise," the voice, rich with honest mirth, cried from the forest, its origin hidden deeply amongst the leaves and the trees and unable to be found by even Zeus' sharp eyes, "a mere boy was able to block my attack?" laughter was heard again, even as the rest of the gods and their attending half-bloods drew their weapons, readying for another attack, "this whole debacle may just be worth it after all!" laughter echoed again, confusing everyone as the laughter seemed to come from everywhere. Even the nature deities, consisting of Dionysus, Artemis and Demeter were unable to locate the source, despite it obviously being within their domain. Artemis, herself, seemed to be the most frustrated of the three, her prowess as a Hunter being called into question due to her inability to locate the source.

Before Zeus could demand the being to show himself, his anger about his cabin dying down enough for him to understand that his nephew had managed to stop an assassination of himself and that the culprit was laughing his foolish head off, when Perseus spoke.

"Enough of your games, _Servant_," he practically snarled in anger, surprising the King at the depth of emotion within the voice of the generally laid back boy, "Identify yourself."

This area was quiet a moment, even the forest, as if shocked by the boy's voice and the rage and anger that simmered beneath his words. Some of the more vigilant noticed the emphasis of the word servant, making it sound like a title. Athena was quick to deduce that the sea spawn knew of the nature of the assailant, making her narrow her now cold steely eyes, in suspicion.

When the voice next came back, it was as the assailant emerged from the trees, still cloaked in the shadows as he spoke, "Well isn't that somethin'," the figure mused aloud as he, as the voice could now be perceived as masculine, "Ya know what I am," the figure continued, walking from the depths of the trees until he was just in the firelight, visible to all, leaning against an old oak casually, "the question is: How?"

Zeus and the others were able to finally get a look at the King's assailant.

He was dressed in bright colours, a deep crimson short sleeveless vest lined with golden trims, stopping just below his ribs and exposing rock solid abs to many a female's pleasure, with a set of baggy bright white silk balloon-like leggings clinging to his waist and ankles. A red cap, matching the vest, with a golden feather adorning it sat atop his wild brown hair, slightly askew. His feet were shod in black kung-fu slippers if Zeus wasn't mistaken. His bright crimson eyes, slitted slightly and rimmed with small burns, stared piercingly at his nephew, ignoring everyone else, much to Zeus' and the other immortals' ire. He had thick and long sideburns, looking almost like mutton chops, almost meeting the corner of his smirking lips. A long purple rosary hung around his muscular neck and and extended down to where his heart would reside in his V-Shaped torso and the pole that had nearly taken Zeus' life rested on his shoulder.

Additionally, there seemed to be something almost...simian about him, only enhanced by the macaque streaking towards the being and sitting at his feet with a gesture of his hand, something that Zeus could not quite put a finger on.

There was also the power the person gave off.

Just the feel of the being showed that it was powerful, unconsciously exuding an aura of strength just standing there. It was less than a god's by a large margin, but strength and power was not everything, something that Zeus had almost forgotten before being saved from the staff that would've crushed his throat and killed him.

He wouldn't be making that mistake again any time soon.  
Because he would eliminating the source of that mistake with extreme prejudice.

Immediately.

"You dare to attack me!" Zeus thundered, his Master Bolt appearing in his hands, crackling with power and ready to smite down his enemy.

Who looked supremely unconcerned, much to the King's ire.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, his red eyes not leaving his nephews angry green ones, "so what?"

Everyone couldn't help but stare with mouths agape, not believing the audacity of this strange man, even Zeus. To shrug off a threat from the King himself, with his Master Bolt at the ready, was either a sign of stupidity or the sign of a set of brass balls the size of Olympus itself.

Many were leaning towards stupidity.

Before Zeus could recover from the statement and smite down the doomed fool, Perseus spoke up, still tense and angry, "Don't waste your time, uncle," he growled, annoyance in his voice, "there is no point trying to strike him down. Not now."

Zeus rose an eyebrow in disbelief at his nephew. The sea spawn expected to hold back a blow against someone who had both mocked him, almost succeeded in killing him and had destroyed his precious cabin?! The boy must be more of an idiot than he thought.

Again, laughter halted his scathing words towards his stupid nephew.

"Ya picked up on that, did ya?" the stranger said with a small grin, slightly enlarged canines being exposed as he did so, "Ya really are a different one, a breed apart of the rest of this lot." he said with a sweeping gesture towards the rest of the audience, who had yet to move toward him.

Perseus snorted in disgust, "there is no real point in destroying a mere spell when we can wait and get ahold of the caster."

Zeus blinked for a moment, trying to understand the meaning of his nephews cryptic statement.

The stranger laughed again, "such skill," the stranger said with an admiring glance at the boy and a shake of his head in amusement, "such perception. I will truly enjoy facing you if we ever truly set foot on the battlefield," true amusement flowed from his lips again, "but that doesn't mean I can't get a half decent spar in."

Before anyone could compute what he had said, the stranger had vanished in a blur, reappearing in front of the child of the sea, his staff swinging down, aiming to crush the collar bone of the sea spawn, a wide smile on his lips, making him look like some deranged ape.

"Let's get wild!" He hollered, as the sea spawn rose to the challenge, seeming to parry the crushing blow.

It was but the first strike in a single battle that would blow the King's mind, along with that of his peers and children.

* * *

Percy gritted his teeth in a snarl as he parried another thrust of the staff, the sheer weight of the weapon, that the Servant was somehow swinging around like a toy, shifting him backward despite it being deflected. His heels created furrows in the ground as he was forced backward.  
He had never expected, nor did he ever want, to face a Servant again. Not since he had seen the destruction of the catalyst for the entire befouled ritual with his own eyes.

Unfortunately, he rarely seemed to get what he wanted in life.

Only a moment had passed since the Servant's opening strike, yet he and the incarnated spirit had already traded blows of their respective weapons reaching double digits.

A grand sweep of the polearm made him duck into a crouch, then rolled backward, avoiding the crushing blow of the staff once more, even as it shattered the earth beneath it. A retaliatory swipe of Anaklusmos, aiming for the hands of the spirit, was swiftly swiftly rebuffed with a loud CLANG!

The two of them were fighting at speeds barely visible for the majority of the half-bloods, only the clash of weapons revealing their respective positions. Just about all of those in attendance were shocked at the prowess the son of Poseidon was showing, never having seen him move like he was now. Their shock, tempered with surprise and a degree of fear, was also shown as the mysterious, and dangerous, being, for he could not be a normal mortal, was easily matching one of their strongest heroes.

It was something none of them had ever seen.

The gods finally stirred from their shock at the actions of Zeus' assailant, and the sea spawn's reactions, and tried to move to intervene. Weapons were clenched as they moved forward.

Unfortunately, the stranger, the so-called _Servant_ according to Perseus, wasn't having any of it.

The simian-like staff wielder, suddenly surged forward, faster than before, his staff slicing the air in a series of rapid-fire thrusts that had Perseus falling back under the assault, barely able to parry them. The stranger advanced at the same rate, leading to the child of the seas almost sprinting backward, somehow keeping his feet, as the assailant hounded them out of the noose the Gods were forming.

"None of that now!" The stranger called to the Olympians as he now crowded the boy in front of him, denying the Gods a chance to fire their weapons without possibly causing harm to Perseus, "the fights between us two!"

"Artemis!" Poseidon called out, his face frustrated as he tried to keep up with the battle between his son and this Styx-damned _Ape_. They were so damned fast, faster than anything he had seen his son do before, making him unable to get a clear shot with his Trident and the increasing darkness wasn't helping!

He could only hope that his niece, the best marksman among them, who was at home in the darkness, would be able to get a shot.

The twang of a bow string was his relieved answer. The silver bolt zipping toward the momentarily still assailant, his son and the being in a weapon lock, aiming for the heart.

Despite the dead lock, the assailant was able to dodge, suddenly giving ground to his son, making him stumble slightly at the unexpected move, directly into the path of the arrow.

Poseidon's heart was in his throat, thinking he would see the death of his son, when his child simply swung his blade casually, splitting the arrow in twain despite being surprised and off balance, and retreated a pace, avoiding the swinging staff again, without pause.

"Impossible," spoke the Huntress, incredulously, echoing his own shock. To split an arrow mid-air was no small thing to even the best of swordsman, but to do it to Artemis' own arrow, unprepared and off balance, whilst already in the middle of a fight? It was nigh impossible, requiring pinpoint accuracy, timing and a host of other factors, all taking place in a split second of time.

"That's what I'm lookin' for!," the stranger yelled, practically in his son's face in another lock, "that skill! That strength! That will!" an attempted leg sweep was the ape-like man's next attack, hooking his front leg behind his son's hind one and jerking it back toward himself, bearing down with his staff at the same time.

"Shut up!" His son snarled, his sweating face a rictus of tension, as he fell back, turning it into a roll and launch, as he managed to pull the monkey man toward him as well, and thrust his feet into the man's abdomen, launching him in a high arc, that man, miraculously, still grasping his staff.

Perseus rolled to his feet, his eyes tracking the arc of the simian fool and moving.

The Gods didn't waste their time, each of them launching their own attacks. Bolts of power, dark and light and in between, flights of arrows, glowing gold and silver, rained down on the seemingly doomed and helpless fool, the shadows and the grass reaching to bind the possible remains.

Then the impossible happened.

Somehow recovering in mid-air, the now tall standing man spun his staff swiftly around him, his body also spinning and gyrating, and began to _reflect_ the attacks, knocking them aside and into the open skies, the solid earth or, in the case of the arrows, simply shattering them on his spinning makeshift shield.

The monkeyish man simply grinned wildly at their shocked expressions, even as he locked himself with the charging son of the sea again.

"Try again next time," the monkey man crowed to them mockingly, before he ducked into a crouch, avoiding a vicious sword swipe that would have taken his head from his shoulders form Perseus, and thrust his staff at the boy's gut, knocking him back only a bit due to a last minute attempt at a dodge, giving the simian irritant a chance to stand again and rain a series of blows, all of them block or parried, on the boy's head and shoulders.

The Gods watched in disbelief, not knowing how it was possible for the loud mouth to avoid their wrath, Hell, he didn't just avoid it, he outright _destroyed_ it.

"What. The. _Fuck_?" Ares swore in complete confusion, voicing everyone else's thoughts, wondering if someone had knocked him upside the head or spiked his drink, because he had to be dreaming.

"Enough of this farce, you damn dirty ape," Perseus hissed audible to everyone, many of them beyond being shocked after everything that happened on this chaotic night so far and not reacting to the sea spawn's atypical venom.

A feeling of heaviness, like a dark weight sitting above them, suddenly enveloped the onlookers, as words spilled from Percy's lips.

"_I bear the burden of my life_," Percy spoke, his voice heavy with power, drawing every ear, as he dodged another hammer like blow, getting some distance, as his eyes began to glow a vivid green, piercing the night like a lantern, "_my hands tip the pans, and my eyes see the truth."_

Everyone was confused with the words Percy had spoken, but none could deny the results.

Suddenly Percy was moving faster, hitting stronger, his sword a blur beyond a blur, forcing back the stranger, whose grin only widened as he was forced back towards the forest, his own body speeding up but unable to match the determined and angered son of the ocean.

"Ha Ha!" the ape man laughed, even as he was driven further back, tiny tears appearing on his vest and pants, evidence of near misses that could have become fatal if not for his own skill, "so your one of _those_," he stated with emphasis, dodging and parrying a few more strikes before hopping back, avoiding a stroke that would have disemboweled him, "excellent! Truly excellent!"

"Do you ever shut up?!" Percy growled in irritation, this time he was crowding the man, not giving him room to swing around that heavy staff, making him retreat more and lose ground and momentum and forcing him to a certain spot.

"Where would be the fun in that?!" the monkey man laughed again, making Percy want to kill him even more, the laugh grating on him more and more every time he heard it. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to kill him today.

Finally, the moment Percy had been waiting for arrived, just in time as well. The spell he was using, at its current level, wouldn't last much longer.

An unexpectedly heavy swing of his sword against the staff held in front of the ape man, mad the man stumble back slightly. At the same time, Percy brought his foot down with a firm stomp, making the earth shake, quake and crack.

Directly beneath the foot of the stranger.

Stumbling further, his foot sinking into a sudden hole without any purchase, making him begin to fall backwards, giving Percy the chance to end it.

The next three moves happened at an even more blistering pace than any who watched, helpless and unable to aid their comrade/friend/boyfriend/son/relative-of-some-sort due to the prowess of both of the combatants, had seen so far.

A swing of his blade separated one of the man's hands from the staff, sending it flying it the brush of the forest, effectively disarming the man. A strong shoulder to the centre mass sent the man flying a short distance, smashing his back into an old oak. Then, letting the momentum of his short shoulder tackle spin him completely around, planted Anaklusmos directly into the gullet of his opponent, effectively nailing him to the tree with a gut turning _Thud! and Squelch!_

All fell silent and still as vivid rage-filled green met jovial red.

"Burst...off," Percy whispered, letting his body relax and his soul stopped burning, stumbling backward and falling on his ass, his eyes still locked with the burn-rimmed red ones of the monkey man, even as his muscles felt like jelly and his nerves still twitched and fired.

This seemed to rouse the watchers from their stupor, and Poseidon was almost immediately at his son's side, concern alight in his eyes that matched the boy's.

"Perseus," the God of the Seas asked urgently, his eyes scanning the boy's body for any visible injuries, "are you alright?"

Percy huffed angrily, shaking off his father's hand abruptly but gently, his eyes not leaving the chuckling man's, even as Zeus stalked toward the pinned fool, his wife and Athena in tow, "I'm fine, just tired as all hell from going pedal to the metal for the first time in years," he glanced at his skeptical looking and concerned father, "help me up," he requested, holding out his hand to his divine parent, and jerking his head in the direction of Zeus drawing himself up and glaring at the pinned being, "I'm needed over there."

Poseidon wanted to object, his son had been through a lot this night, but the serious in his son's eyes, and his own caution and curiosity, made him acquiescence. The night had been confusing and his son seemed to be the only one with any answers.

A larger hand met one of Perseus' own, lifting him up, only for him to stagger sideways, almost falling, only for another person to catch the young man.

Perseus looked up at his saviour, his sea green eyes meeting concerned steely grey.

* * *

Zeus glared at the pinned being, his wise daughter and his wife flanking him, adding their own glares, seeking to intimidate the seemingly ever-amused fool with a sword in his gut. Strangely, his assailant did nothing but smile, no pain evident on his face.

"I am only going to ask you once," the King spoke in a deathly whisper that, nevertheless, carried to even the back of the crowd behind him, a benefit of his ability to manipulate the air, "then I am going to blast you to oblivion. If you choose to answer, I will have a degree of mercy and simply let the Court of the Underworld decide your fate. You may even be able to escape Punishment.

"Should you deny me and refuse to answer a simple question, however,"

Zeus leaned down to look the being directly in the eyes, lightning crackling in place of his normally blue orbs, his bearing full of menace and power.

"Then Tartarus is what awaits you."

He leaned closer, almost nose to nose with the still grinning fool.

"I suggest you choose wisely."

His eyes lost their literal stormy appearance as he returned to his standing position, looking down at the silent and pinned being in disgust.

"Who are you?"

The words echoed commandingly, expecting a response, immediately.

Zeus got one, but it wasn't one he was expecting.

Lifting his only remaining hand, with an insolent grin still on his face, the ape man gave him the finger, chuckling deeply, vastly amused even with his death imminent.

Zeus stared at the hand uncomprehendingly for a moment, not able to believe someone would have the audacity to do so, before his face flushed with anger and rage, the Master Bolt in his hand crackling dangerously as his temper reached boiling point.

"To Tartarus with you then!" the King of thee Gods bellowed, raising his Bolt high, aiming to smite the fool that had dared to mock him.

"Uncle!" a voice called abruptly, stopping the King momentarily in his tracks, "Please wait!"

Zeus turned his head dangerously toward his nephew, beyond displeased with the interruption of his meting out justice, and opened his mouth to command the boy's silence, before he took in the look of the boy.

Gone was the look of the sarcastic boy that had plagued him ever since he had set foot in the world of the God's, causing trouble even when he didn't want to cause trouble and able to pull off a plan so unorthodox, that it succeeded, that seemingly came from his own ass at times.

In his place, Zeus saw a young man, full of rage and fury and strength, even as he leaned heavily against his father's, and the Athena girl's, shoulders. His normally calm green eyes were filled with venom and hard won knowledge, suddenly reminding the King that the young man had shown knowledge of this being just after it had attacked him.

It also reminded him that he owed a debt to the boy for saving his life.

"What is it, Boy?" he growled in annoyance, withholding his instinct to smite down the one that had interrupted him.

"I require a few questions answered from this..._man_," the boy practically spat, distaste in every line of his body.

"As do I, boy," retorted the King of the Gods, "but if he refuses to answer me, what are the chances he will answer you?"

The boy shrugged off the supporting hands of his father and his paramour, walking slowly, almost haltingly, through the crowd, as they gave way before him, before he stood next to the King, not looking at him, and ignoring the sharp eyes of Athena and the annoyed glare of the Queen, and only locking eyes with the being.

"Because I know _what_ he is, in both meanings of the term," the young man answered cryptically, his eyes hardening as he looked at the helpless man.

Zeus raised an eyebrow, along with sharp minded daughter, and went to command him to explain, when the boy continued on.

"The man you see before you... is no man at all. He is merely an illusion, a body double, an automaton of flesh and blood and magic, having only a portion of the power of the creator, created by your original assailant after the initial attack on your Majesty failed in order for the _true_ attacker to flee unhindered."

Everyone rocked at the bombshell the boy had dropped, not believing that mere double was able to do what it had done. Before any could object, laughter rang out from the pinned 'man'.

"Good eye, boya," the helpless being praised, a twinkle in its red eyes, "it takes an experienced warrior ta see through this Phantasm," it chuckled heartily, honestly amused, "when did ya find out?" it asked with honest curiosity.

"Before you swung the first blow," Perseus retorted, anger in his voice again.

The being, the now confirmed double, nodded in respect with a grin, "I'd give ya a round of applause, but I seem ta have lost a hand."

"You'll lose much more than that before the night is done," Percy snapped back, his voice still irate and glaring bloody daggers at the pinned... 'clone' for lack of a better word. Many flinched back from the glare, even if it wasn't directed at them, so filled with venom it was.

Zeus frowned at his nephew, annoyed that he had known that the assailant had escaped and that this was a mere clone, and worried that the boy knew that it was a clone in the first place. This stank of conspiracy to the King, but he shelved that thought until he had more information.

"And what is the second piece of information you know about this...thing." the King asked with a dismissive gesture to the spiked clone.

His nephew was quiet for a moment, long enough that he thought that the boy was ignoring him, much to his anger, before the young man spoke again, in fact ignoring his words and addressed the being.

"I know what your creator is," the voice was flat and still, a black lake that hid churning and violent waters beneath it, but his eyes fairly blazed with barely leashed anger and rage, "but I want to know why, and _how_, he is even here. With my right as the victor of our battle, I **_command_**," the word practically shook the air with force behind it, impressing even Zeus with the barely restrained power it contained, "you, o Spirit from the Throne, to answer me."

The whole world seemed to go quiet as the young man ended his angered filled diatribe, leaving him panting in exhaustion and suppressed emotion, and awaited an answer from the ever-laughing fool before them all.

Those red eyes once more pierced the sea green with their merriment, rousing even more anger in the young man, before the now identified clone once more did the unexpected.

Placing his last hand on the hilt of Anaklusmos, and bracing his feet against the stout trunk, the clone barely even grunted as he tore the sword from his gullet, the expected blood not spilling as he did so. Before anyone could charge him, seeing him as a threat, the clone merely tossed the sword back to it's owner, who easily snapped it up despite his own exhausted state, and fell back into the hard embrace of the ancient oaken trunk, visibly taking his ease, as its eyes, still a deep crimson, suddenly seemed to blaze with life and power, as if someone else had emerged from to stare through the clone's eyes.

Percy had a good idea who.

The stranger hung off of the tree, somehow still able to stand despite the absence of the sword that had previously held up, and declared in voice as loud as thunder, "Behold!" he bellowed, an aura bursting into existence as a blue fire, wreathing him in a halo of smokeless flames, making many leap back on instinct, "**Behold! In this war, this Holy War, this Holy Grail War, born of the ashes of the last!**" his voice echoed off of the sky itself, even those with the most hard of hearing were able to understand him, "**I! the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven! Stand before you! My might is unmatched! My mind is most keen! As the _Final_ Caster of Black, I will fight and win this war!"**

The fire seemed to suddenly turn inward on itself, starting to devour the stranger from the feet up.

"**And I name you**!" the now immolating stranger, who identified himself as Caster of Black, declared, pointing his still attached hand at the still visibly angry Percy Jackson, who had an expression of recognition and rage painted across his face, frightening more than a few, "**Boy, as my opponent,**" laughter roared out again again as the flames now reached the stranger's heart, "**Summon soon, boy, I want to meet you at your best, and whoever you summon as well, and the fight will be glorious!"**

Laughter was the only thing heard as the rest of the stranger's body burnt away, no ash or smoke left behind. Even when the last bit of hair was burnt, the laughter kept echoing staying with the those in attendance for quite some time after, leaving only a memory and a single tuft of fur, fallen on the ground, behind.

Then there was silence, broken only by the snap and crackle of the great hearth.

Zeus looked at the spot where his assailant had immolated himself with something approaching dumbstruck disbelief, a feeling shared by everyone there.

Except for Perseus.

A rumbling growl of anger drew everyone's attention to the sea spawn, his shoulders hunched and heaving, with his face hidden in the shadow of the fire and his hair. His chopped mutterings of 'impossible', 'this makes no sense' and 'how?' were heard beneath the rumbling anger, confusing any and all who heard him.

Zeus finally managed to shake himself back to rationality. Something had happened here, an event that had included an assassination attempt on him, and his wife if he understood how staff would have moved once it crushed his own throat, and this sea spawn knew something about it, not mention the power the boy had shown in the fight, something that made the King of the Gods uneasy.

He was going to get his answers, even if he had to strip the boy's flesh from his own bones.

"Boy!" he thundered to the sea spawn, bringing the boy back from his wild musings, "what in the name of mother Rhea was this about?!"

Before his brother could appear at his son's side, ready to protect him from his royal wrath, the boy spoke up, "something that shouldn't be able to happen," he snapped at Zeus, who was surprised yet again at the anger in the usually even tempered boy's voice, his green eyes almost wild, "the only object that could have made this whole thing possible, to bring that being into existence, was destroyed more than half a decade ago. I saw that accursed cup break, shatter and burn with my own eyes!"

"What cup?!" Zeus demanded, almost reaching out to choke the boy, frustrated with the half-answers he had been receiving all night long and wanting to get to the bottom of this whole mess.

That question seemed to bring the boy back to his senses, making him close his eyes and take deep and slow breaths in an effort to calm himself. After a few repetitions, his eyes opened again, focused, piercing and deadly, making even the God-King feel uneasy as they pinned him.

"Lord Zeus," the boy stated formally with a deep bow, once more surprising all within earshot, the boy they knew didn't have a formal bone in his body, "I would request an audience with the entire Olympian Council, and Head Councillors of the cabins, regarding the events of tonight and the danger it represents to Olympus. Urgently."

Zeus blinked heavily for a moment, stunned by the young man's request and the formality, and respect, would wonders never cease, he had shown him. Still, the answer was a no-brainer, as the mortals would say.

"Your request is granted, young one," responding to the formality he was shown with a slight softening of his tones and manner, the boy seemed about to finally give him the information he wanted, a few moments more to get comfortable could not hurt. He had a feeling it would be a long story.

* * *

Percy Jackson, the Hero of Olympus, son of Poseidon, sat at the ping pong in the Rec Room of the Big House, waiting for everyone to arrive, his head in his hands.  
The rest of the campers had been dispersed, much to their annoyance, returning to their cabins for lights out. Despite the annoyance, there was little grumbling, the sights they had see that night were disturbing and preoccupied many of them.

Besides, they could get the information from their cabin leaders after a good night's sleep.

A nudge at his shoulder made him glance up, meeting grey eyes for the second time that night.

"How are you holding up, Seaweed Brain?" Annabeth asked, concern in her eyes as she talked to her boyfriend, trying to show him some support as the rest of the Gods and Councillors filed in, the parents of the half-bloods taking seats while their children stood, except for Perseus, whose father stood behind him looking worriedly at his son.

"Not the best Wise Girl," he croaked back, tired and angry and sorrowful. Styx, but this whole debacle had his emotions all over the place. Why couldn't it just stay where it belonged, in the past.

"I don't know what on earth is happening, Percy," she said with a frown at her worn and harried looking friend, his skin as pale as Nico's, "but I have your back, alright?"

Her frown only grew as the boy flinched heavily at the statement, paling further, before a bitter smile crossed his face for a moment, and wordlessly nodding in acceptance.

A soft cough from her frowning in disapproval mother had her patting the young man's back in comfort a last time before joining her.

Zeus strode in last, taking a seat at the head of the table, and, for once, not beating around the bush.

"Perseus," he addressed the boy sternly, "you have requested this audience. Now speak."

'Do or die time,' the boy thought and drew a deep breath.

"To understand what happened tonight," he began, "a little back story is required."

He looked around at the attentive Gods, "Tell me, how many of you have heard of the Holy Grail?"

* * *

Well, this is my new story. An idea that just would not leave me alone.  
If I get enough good reviews, I will continue it. Also, a heads up for my fans, I will now be focusing on 'A Heart of Steel' which I plan to be in three parts, each part covering one of the final three books of PJatO.  
As always, please review.  
Thanks,  
kujikiri21


	2. Chapter 2

Olympus Apocrypha

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Fate Stay Night or Fate Apocrypha

AN: It is interesting to see my work has been approved of. I have decided to continue it. But this chapter will be the last one for a while, as I am going to start focusing on 'Heart of Steel'.

A word to the wise for my readers, this is another setup chapter, exploring fragments of Percy's past in order for the Olympians to understand the present and, if I'm nice, a summoning.

I am also taking liberties in referring to past events and places, changing dates to suit my needs, so watch out all history students! If you find discrepancies, please be forgiving, as i have never been to the US and there is only so much information I can obtain from the internet.

Also, just to be clear, Zelretch and the other heavy hitters of type-moon verse. This is because it is not a true crossover, but rather PJ-verse with a native version of the Grail War. That said, I believe that there are other pantheons of Gods, besides the Olympians, and thus all the heroes of myth and legend, not just the Greek and Romans, had existed, so expect a few intriguing Servants to crop up.

Also, just so you guys can help with my story, please look at the Author's notes at the end of the chapter, as I will have a question that will need answering from those who enjoy this story in order to keep writing it.

Now that my piece is said, enjoy the show

* * *

The Queen of Olympus rose an eyebrow at the suddenly revealed to be complex child of Poseidon, her brothers and sisters, and unwanted nephews/nieces/step-children, doing the same at the young man's seeming non-sequitur. Hera couldn't fathom how a mythical cup was in any way linked to the brutal battle, with the strange (frightening) being, that had taken place earlier that night.

Inwardly, she shivered for a moment, hiding her reaction at reliving that daunting memory. The Queen had never been closer to death at that moment, that same moment that that deep ebon staff, encircled with gold, had come within feet of killing her husband, before moving on to herself. Even if the boy had managed to save them both, it still made her...uneasy. Then there was the battle that followed.

It had been insane, in her mind.

The being, revealed to be a simple clone, possibly similar to a Mistform that Hecate was so fond of using, with only a portion of the power of the creator had moved at blistering speeds, her corporeal form's eyes, as it was now, almost unable to keep up with it. Blows stronger than almost anything she had seen on the mortal plane, save from that muscle bound fool of her husband's and a few other, more notable, half-bloods, were swung with impunity.

And the boy had matched them, blow meeting blow, step for step, before suddenly overwhelming the intruder and assailant, pinning it to a tree, something that the rest of the Council had been unable to do. Heaven's above, the damned intruder had simply deflected their power and wrath when they had got a clear shot at him, rendering their attempted punishment of him futile. Useless.

For someone who hd been standing at the top of the totem pole for quite some time, it was a rather sobering, and terrifying, experience. Suddenly, the world was a bigger place, and she wasn't the biggest fish in the sea.

She knew, even if they hid it well, that the rest of the Council felt similar.

"The Holy Grail?" a girl asked, that Athena spawn Annabeth if Hera wasn't mistaken, a rude young woman in her opinion, "you mean the cup of Jesus Christ from the last supper in the Bible?" she clarified.

The young man snorted in bitter derision, his face seemed pale and weary, as if the world were upon his shoulders. Again if she remembered right.

"If only it was that," Perseus said tiredly, "though you forgot the part where it is, supposedly, a way to earn immortality if you drink from it. It can also mean a something that is eagerly sought after, an ultimate end goal of great power," he sighed heavily again, "it is in respect to the last two definitions that this whole debacle came to be."

His head looked around at them all, his green eyes showing something, a piercing quality, like he was looking into their hearts, that disturbed them.

"The Holy Grail War," he began, "was made for the sake of sating simple human greed and lust for power. A group of mortal Mist users wanted power, unlimited and eternal-" he was interrupted by snorts of derision from Athena.

"This fails to surprise me," she said with a slight sneer, "mortals have always been greedy."

"True," Perseus sighed slightly, his face regaining some of it's healthy hue, "I honestly think its because of their brief time in this world, their lives are the flickering of an eye to you and yours, they want as much out of it as they can, and chances to extend that already brief existence, are grasped eagerly, whatever the consequences."

Hera arched an eyebrow at the boy. Last she had heard and seen him, before the award ceremony, he had not been the most eloquent of speakers, nor did he have a philosophical bent of thought. That answer that he had given was quite out of character for him.

Judging by the looks from half-blood and deity alike directed at him, she was not alone in that assessment.

"O~Kay," one of Hermes boy's spoke up, looking a trifle flummoxed, "I'm not going to comment of your suddenly acquiring a silver tongue, however much I want to, but I have to clarify, mortals can actually use the Mist?" He asked, looking a bit bewildered.

"Some can," Hermes responded to his son's query, "but they are rare though, and getting rarer. Even in the old days, they were few and far between. Now?" The Messenger shrugged, "they're almost non-existent."

"But they are still around," Perseus rebutted, "they may not be quite as strong as they used to be, knowledge lost of the years not yet being regained, but they can still pull off some powerful spells. Even if they don't know that they can."

The children of the Traveller nodded in understanding to the sea spawn, mulling over his words.

This allowed the boy to get back on track.

"As I said," he continued, "they all wanted power, each for their own reasons, for their own purposes, and were ignorant of the existence of the Gods, believing them to be mere pipe dreams or delusions of the mad and fearful."

"Those are dangerous thoughts," spoke up Artemis, moon-like eyes intent on the young man that had borne the sky in her place, seeing a side to him that she had not before. Something that Hera was sure rankled at her hunting instincts as the one who 'always knew their prey'.

Perseus merely nodded in agreement before continuing, his face slowly beginning to pale again and his eyes returning to the haunted state they had been in before, "regardless of their thoughts, they set to work, their heads coming together in order to create a great working. A magical ritual of such power, that it could shape and reshape the world at the user's whim. All for a single wish."

"Preposterous," Zeus growled, over the shocked murmuring of the others, "no mortal is capable of such a thing. And even if, by some Tartarus damned _miracle_, they are able to even create one, they would lack the power necessary to even be able to use the smallest portion of it."

Hera quietly agreed. What the young man was implying, while frightening, was almost beyond the realms of belief. The only thing that held her tongue was the previous events of this night, the appearance of that horrifically powerful being, an anomaly that could not be explained.

Except by this boy.

"If they had used their own power," responded Jackson with a small shrug, "I would agree with you," his eyes became harder now, green gems instead of waving seas, "instead they did something stupid. Using their gift, they inscribed the spells onto the leylines."

The Gods hissed in unison, startled and disbelieving, even the confused half-bloods didn't go unaffected, with Lou Ellen, head of Hecate's cabin, going pale in shock. Hera shook her head, not wanting to believe that anyone could be that stupid, that foolish, praying that the boy was wrong.

She had a feeling her prayer was not going to be answered.

"What are these leylines?" Asked Thalia, raising a darkened eyebrow, "and what the heck has everyone up in arms about it?"

"Leylines are the lines of power," Artemis answered, her face tight in a scowl, "an invisible and intangible network of spiritual power that is the life blood of the earth. Without it, life cannot flourish. The reason we reacted in such a manner is that tampering with them is a great taboo, an Ancient Law, as doing so will cause untold disasters, hurricanes of immense power out of season, rampant fires that can consume entire states, windstorms strong enough to strip flesh from bone, famines, diseases, fertile lands becoming barren, all of them upsetting nature's balance. The results of the last time a foolish being had decided to use a leyline's power... Was the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which then destroyed Pompeii," her silver moon eyes pierced the pale blue eyes of a shocked and horrified daughter of the sky, "only the greatest, ignorant and most desperate fool would dared to have done so."

"You can also add greedy to the list," Perseus said dryly before his face hardened into a line of disgust, ignoring the hand of his angry flushed and shocked father on his shoulder, "by placing the spells on the leylines, they didn't have to power the spells themselves, as they drew power from the lines of power instead. This would have an after effect which is will explain in a bit, but now for the ritual itself."

He seemed to take deep breath, preparing himself, before he continued, his voice dropping into a sorrowful, almost depressed tone, "with the power issue solved they moved to the next step, the ritual itself. The thing about it, is that a ritual involves sacrifice of some description in order to empower the caster's will to bring about a desired result from the world, Whether it be time and labour, a portion of the caster's energy, a person's life blood or some other thing, a sacrifice is always present. The greater the result wanted, the larger the sacrifice that must be made."  
He chuckled grimly, his eyes bitter, "a ritual to bring forth a wish capable of reshaping the world? Only the greatest sacrifice would have enough power to make it possible. Any one willing to guess what it is?"

Hera knew. She knew the rest of the Gods knew. Chiron knew as well, his face grimacing.

Unsurprisingly, it was the child of Athena who answered.

"Life," answered Annabeth simply, her face pale, "life is our greatest gift and the greatest sacrifice one can make."

Perseus nodded in agreement as the other half-bloods drew a breath sharply, even as their Divine parents looked like granite statues, harsh and unyielding, "to be specific, another's life. The spilling of another's blood is powerful, showing a willingness to achieve a goal despite what obstacles there are. However, given the enormity of the wish they desired, one life would not be enough, or even hundreds of lives, or thousands. Mortal lives, in the eyes of the world, are cheap and are barely worth the time to sacrifice the ocean of blood necessary for one wish, for one person."

Hera stared at Perseus in disbelief, not understanding how he could say such a thing. For a hero who had fought and fought, man and monster and God, in order to protect, even those he never knew, to hear him say that 'lives are cheap' was like a slap in the face. A wake up call that she didn't know the young man well at all.

Even his friends and father looked at him something approaching horror.

Perseus seemed oblivious to the stares, his eyes glazing over once more, and his voice once more cut the silence, "they needed stronger lives, ones that the world put more value on, in order for them to shape reality, but even then they needed multiple lives and that was for only one wish. A wish that could only go to one person, and the others involved didn't trust another not to wish for the power for themselves."

Ares chuckled slightly, his eyes shining with the fires of bloodlust, "sounds like my type fun," he chuckled slightly again, "wars between family were always the bloodiest."

Hera scowled, along with many others, at her son's revelling in bloodshed. Love him though she did, at times even she despised his war-mongering ways, especially at their worst when his blood was up.

He sure as Tartarus didn't get it from her.

"And that is what it came down to," Perseus nodded, drawing attention back to him, "it was decided between them, as they were unable and unwilling to decide who would get the wish, that the ritual would transformed into a War," everyone clearly heard the capitalisation of the word, ringing like a death knell, "these seven mortal 'mages', for lack of a better term, decided to fight it out for the prize."

Bloodthirsty Ares slumped, his eagerness to fight gone, "seven people, even if they are mages, isn't a war, kid. It's a school yard tussle, with magic," the God of War complained, his daughter also annoyed.

Perseus merely laughed darkly and bitterly, disturbing many in the room, "oh it was a war alright, Ares," he laughed again, "or do you not consider rivers turning to blood, entire neighbourhoods crushed, mountains turning to dust and the heaven's themselves set alight to be a war?" He asked, sarcastic and bitter to the now frozen child of Hera.

"Well," he grunted, leaning back in his throne, satisfied, even as the rest of the Council stared at the boy in disbelief, again, "that's bit better."

"Surely you jest, Perseus," Hades said, a raised brow and a skeptical eye on his unwanted nephew, "few mages in the past have the type of power you are describing, even the children of Hecate, and even _if_ they had such power, the resulting events would not go unnoticed or uninvestigated by us."

"I honestly don't know why you have not noticed these events before," Perseus said with a shrug, "but you are right on one thing," he leaned forward, staring his uncle straight in his dark eyes, seeming not affected at all by the aura of dread the God naturally produced, "the mages didn't have the power to cause that kind of damage,

"But the spirits they summoned did."

* * *

Hades stared at his nephew, not believing the statement that had issued from the boy's lips. Before he could recover his thoughts, Perseus kept speaking.

"When the benighted _fools_," Perseus practically hissed the word, venom dripping from his tone and making a few of the more sensitive flinch, "changed the ritual to a War, they still needed to meet the sacrifice requirement. Spirits, by their own nature, have vastly more value than a single mortal human in the eyes of the uncaring world, making them an appropriate sacrifice, needing only a few to meet the correct amount sacrifice."

"You are saying," his niece spoke, auburn hair bristling and moon-like eyes shining in brilliant fury, a trait shared by many within the room, "that these mages, dared to enslave the likes of dryads and other spirits to their will, forcing them to fight to the death, and then using their sacrificed lives to satisfy their lust for power?"

Hades felt his own fury rise. He had done many things in his time, good and bad, but even he had his limits. These mortals had dared to tread over the line. As he simmered in anger, he quietly resolved to find the instigators of this abomination of a ritual. Though there was something off, like he was missing an important piece of the puzzle.

Perseus merely snorted bitterly at Artemis' raging comment, "if only, lady Artemis. For all that it would be a horrible thing to happen to the victims, it would be greatly preferable, even to you, that that is what happened. No," he shook his head wearily, continuing quickly so as to interrupt another tirade from a flushed with hatred goddess of the Hunt, "nature spirits, whether they be of actual nature, like dryads and nereids, or embodiments of more human aspects, such as the keres, while powerful in their own right, are nowhere near powerful enough to be used in such a manner."

"Then what did they use, boy?" Zeus rumbled, his patience obviously wearing thin.

Perseus gazed at the table, his head bowed, "They used spirits from the Throne."

Hades blinked at the answer, the name seeming familiar to him, but he couldn't place it, much to his own irritation. A quick glance revealed many had the same face, trying to remember something on the edge of their minds.

Perseus raised his head from the table and looked back at them, there was a light in his eyes, lurking beneath the green waves they usually were.

"Have you ever wondered what makes a Hero a Hero?" He asked idly, seeming to lead this whole conversation onto a tangent, "Is it their strength and the deeds they have performed with it? Their intelligence and the inventions they have crafted? Is it their heart, which can allow them to persevere when even the toughest fall prey to doubt?" He chuckled slightly, his eyes empty again, "four years ago, this camp gave me an answer, that the blood in our veins, carrying the legacy of our fathers and mothers, gave us that right, so long as we lived up to it."

His eyes suddenly seemed to glare, filling the room, even as an indescribable feeling fell over The Lord of the Underworld. Like he stood on the edge of precipice, and inch thick, and either way fell into the abyss. One of the boy's hands began to glow with a deep crimson light, casting shadows around him, giving him an aura of wrath and determination.

"Six years ago, when the Grail War was active, when I was forced to participate against my will, I was given a different answer, one that I believed with my whole heart, before I was cursed, my memories locked away."

Poseidon seemed to stiffen alarmingly, gripping his son's shoulder tightly, as others also looked at the boy with new eyes. Hades narrowed his own in thought. A memory curse? That may explain why the boy was so different. With his memories returned, somehow or other, his psyche would have to adjust, make him question his values and beliefs, as older experiences, especially ones of both trauma and significance, were brought to the fore.

And you don't get much more traumatic than a war.

"In the words of a friend; Heroes are the ones who have crafted their own path, to go against the flow, that defy what obstacles fate has set before them and triumph. They are an example to follow, often told in story and song, as an object of veneration, or even worship. In short, they are protectors."

Perseus looked over his somewhat stunned audience, "these were the words of a Hero himself called forth from the Throne of Heroes."

Hades froze. The Throne of Heroes. It was involved in this travesty? Suddenly a lot things made sense. Even how that humanoid-ape was able to fight and even disperse their attacks. He glanced around the room again, and was annoyed, and slightly disgusted, that his brethren still seemed confused. Ignorant fools, surely they knew of the Throne, even if he had almost forgotten about it, despite it's metaphorical borders being so close to his own realm.

"The Throne of Heroes?" Athena and her daughter questioned in unison. Had he been more with it, Hades would have snorted at the ignorance of the Goddess of Wisdom.

Perseus nodded, "it is a place outside of time and space in which Heroic Spirits reside. Heroic Spirits can be said to be the souls of Heroes that have passed on and become objects of veneration and worship and thus ascended to a pseudo-divine state of being."

Crack!

Interrupting his nephews explanation, the sound wood and stone being crushed by a large hand, was heard from the direction of Zeus, his face a thundercloud, "you mean to say," the King of the Gods rumbled, a warning to all that heard it, "that this so called Throne of Heroes has the ability to make a God from a mortal?" his voice was dangerous, low and soft but hard as stone.

"No," Perseus responded calmly, looking the King directly in the eyes, "in your true form, any of the Gods have vastly more power than Heroic Spirit. You exist on another tier of existence, though they can kill you, much as a Half-blood could."

This seemed to quell some of Zeus' paranoia, a possible threat to his rule now put to rest, leaving the status quo maintained.

"Hold on a moment," Hades' son, Nico di Angelo, spoke up, "you've said the Throne contains the souls of Heroes that had enough fame, right? So how on Earth was I able to summon Theseus?"

Hades winced inwardly at his son's lack of tact. Saying that you have raised the soul of someone, whose father is still in the room, was definitely not the best of courses. The now darkening features of his younger brother as he almost glared at his son proved that quite well.

"Because, in truth, only a _portion_ of the soul," Perseus emphasised, "is sent to the Throne, while the majority of it goes to whatever Underworld they believe in or are beholden to. When that portion enters the Throne, it mixes with the collective ideals and beliefs of humanity's view of said soul, reshaping and empowering them, similar to the Gods, and creating an idealised version of the soul."

Connor Stoll, a son of Hermes, scratched his head in confusion, "so they're Heroes, but not the Hero, at the same time?" He shook his head in disbelief, "how the Styx does that work?"

"The mysteries of the afterlife aren't known to me," Perseus responded dryly, much to Hades scrutiny.

Hades observed his young nephew, despite how irritating he was, and frowned slightly. As a Lord of the Underworld, one who is able to pass judgement on the souls of the dead, being able to read a person, to know their motives and personality, was a necessity. When he had met the boy, his life had unfolded before him in the way he moved, he spoke, he thought and fought. A Protector for those who are precious to him, placing their lives above his own, a sense of morality and empathy with which he could turn even his worst of foes into an ally. Ignorant and flailing in a strange world not his own. And loyalty, and endless powerful loyalty, to his family and friends, never willing to let them go.

This is what he had seen in the boy.

It was not what he saw now.

The loyalty was still there, as strong as ever, or maybe even stronger, but tempered by the bitterness of reality, knowing he could not save everyone, all the time, but still trying his best to. Still a Protector but more hardened, more willing, to strike hard and fast and mercilessly. His sense of morality was now diamond hard, inflexible, his beliefs now anchored and supported by his own thoughts, believing it was the right way, and becoming angered at those who would trespass against his beliefs. The biggest change though, was in the eyes. Instead of ignorance and surprise, knowledge bloomed, a weapon against foes and a shield for his allies and friends and family.

It was a subtle and yet vast change to the young man he had though he knew something of.

His musings, having taken but a moment, were interrupted by said boy as he raised his hand, showing them the back of it.

And the vividly glowing crimson brand there.

"Part of the summoning bound the spirits to their will, to a point. As mere mortals, even boosted by the ritual, they couldn't completely enslave a being like a Heroic Spirit," Perseus snorted derisively, "as Heroes with pride, they would not have suffered such indignity and have torn the supposed 'Master' apart with the first breath they took after the summoning," he tapped the brands, making them pulse for a moment, "this is where the Command Seals came in. Working in conjunction with the summoning part of the original, it established a link to the Heroic Spirit, drawing on their own semi-divine power and pulling said power to the mortal plane. There, more power was used to form a body of flesh and blood container for the power, thus creating the being known as a Servant."  
That caused the more observant to start slightly.

"That's what you called the intruder," Poseidon said, addressing his son for the first time in the room. The laugh lines of his face had turned into frowns and his youthful black had begun to gray, an indication of his worry for his beloved son.

"And that's what he was. A spiritual clone of a Heroic Spirit, given a body of flesh and blood on the mortal plane, and anchored to existence by a connection with the Master through the Seals," he sighed slightly, "the Heroic Spirits that the Servant is made from most likely isn't even aware of the link."

Hades growled aloud, "this is not something I can condone," his voice slipped easily into,the ears of those listening, a dagger sheathed in velvet, soft menace in every syllable, "the world of spirits is _my domain_, and these fools have trespassed."

"You knew of this Throne, brother?" Zeus demanded, his face darkening in anger once more, "and you did not inform the rest of the Council?"

"It is a Mystery, Zeus," he retorted. This made Zeus back off quickly.

Hades nodded in acceptance. Mysteries, the secrets of the Domains, were not something to be trifled with, as they were the keys to ruling the Domain it was associated with. It was considered an act of war for a God to attempt to take a Mystery from a Domain that was not their own. Ancient Laws also covered it under the same clause as Symbols of Power, not letting a God take them directly. It was also considered the height of favour for a mortal to receive instruction in the Mysteries from a God, back in the old days. Orpheus was perhaps the most well known on that score, having received Mysteries from both Dionysus _and_ his own father, Apollo, and was a feat that had yet to be equaled or surpassed.

Perseus continued, ignoring the byplay, "with this connection to the Servant, and the Grail, the mages fought," he closed his haunted eyes and leaned back in his chair, "imagine seven Gods, each of them the greatest of warriors, given free rein to use their strongest powers against the others, uncaring of the damage they caused, the innocent blood they spilled, all to gain the ultimate prize," he chuckled bitterly, "it would make the Titanomachy look like a tussle between three year olds armed with twigs."

Faces paled. Hades had seen many wars come and go, dealing with the aftermath as well, but even he could not help but wince. Battles between mortals was one thing, but the clashes between Gods, directly, was a frightening thing. Having fought in both Titanomachies and against Typhon long ago and faced the Giants of Gaea, he knew well the damage that could be done.

"The fighting would continue until the last Master and Servant pair was left standing, who would then get a wish apiece, using the energy of the slain Servants as an ignition key to start the Grail into action, allowing it grant the wishes" he growled lightly, his sea green eyes snapping open, "only it didn't work out that way. The original ritual went unfinished as all of the Servants and Masters were slain, the wish going begging, and the Grail going dormant."

Hades frowned at the boy. If what he had said was true, the. This whole situation was a farce. The so-called Grail going dormant meant that there was no threat.

"But only for time," Perseus sighed heavily, "with the ritual spells still attached to the leyline, even if the Grail was dormant, it was still drawing power, even if it was only a fraction of what it used when in an active state. As with all things, there is a certain limit, a threshold, that when reached, the object must release the power or break," he laughed slightly, without humour, "the Grail defaulted to releasing the power the only way it knew how, beginning the ritual once more, selecting seven Masters, who fit the criteria, and thus beginning a new Grail War."

Hades growled lowly. This travesty was only getting worse by the minute! It also made him angry that he had missed such a significant series of events. From close to his own Domain, no less!

His brethren were also speechless, Athena in particular looking like old milk. Obviously she had a better understanding of the consequences that this Tartarus-damned ritual had than most.

But Perseus still wasn't finished, his voice still reaching the stunned silent ears of his audience, "And so times turned. With the Grail bound to the leylines, it also followed the Heart of the West, manifesting every so often when it's power grew too great and kick starting another round of carnage and battle. And every time, seven Masters, summoning seven Servants, battled for the prize, only for them to fail, the wish once more going begging, as all the Masters and Servants were slain, leaving no one to claim the prize."

"Wait a mo'," interrupted Hermes, managing to shake of his morbid shock and look at the boy in complete disbelief, "you mean to say that no-one has managed to get their wish? That everyone has died?" The Messenger of the Gods shook his head, "what the Styx are the odds of that?"

"None the less, it is true," Perseus shrugged, before his eyes darkened, "with wish going begging each and every time, the Servants power kept getting stored within the Grail, without being used. This power had sentience and, as time marched on, with every Grail War, the Grail also began to exhibit sentience, able to carefully choose the various participants or Masters. With each successive war, it became smarter, stronger.

"And vastly more malicious."

Hades paled slightly, understanding dawning on him. As his Domain dealt with souls, he could see what had happened and that filled him with a sense of foreboding.

Objects becoming sentient was not an unusual phenomena, indeed automatons could be considered examples of this, but giving an object a soul was another matter entirely. In order for this object to reach sentience, it had used the fragments of the Servants souls when it stored them upon their death, the fragments gradually building up to the point where they could become a whole soul and, voila! Instant sentience.

Unfortunately sentience did not mean sanity.

Those many fragments of souls, all of them completely different from one another, having their own egos and will, lacking even basic compatibility, had been forcefully merged together into one whole one. Olympus above, it was honestly amazing that it could even think as the fragments twisted and tore at its processes. Even worse, the fragments had all died through being killed, leaving a swath of malice, of basic need for vengeance, stained on the soul fragments, which would then have been taken up and amplified by the merging.

Hades had an eerie feeling, an unfamiliar shiver of dread and slight fear, run down his spine. This travesty was even worse than he had thought!

"The Grail delighted in the blood and carnage wrought by the War," his nephew continued, his shoulders slumping and the pale haunted look returning, flickers of shadows in his eyes, "the pain and death and, often, betrayal involved made it laugh in twisted joy, it's only amusement at another's agony," his mouth twisted bitterly even as the rest of the room looked at him in various degrees of horror, "and if by some miracle that one of the Master and Servant's managed to win, even the wish itself was not safe, the now putrid power of the Grail, tainted by rage and hate, would have twisted the wish, making it only possible through destruction. Wish for money? It kills your Mother to collect the insurance. Wish for beauty? It will scar everyone else in the world to ensure you are beautiful. Wish to be a God?" He sighed again, "and it will grant you a punishment that even Prometheus would cringe at after making you immortal."

Zeus frowned heavily, obviously disliking what had been heard, "it is clear that this Grail is dangerous, a blight upon the West," he rumbled, "it is too powerful to go unchecked despite it having already done so for numerous years," electric blue eyes focused on the slumped sea spawn, "when the intruder was finally destroyed, you mentioned something about 'the cup shattering', what did you mean?"

Hades noticed Perseus visibly tense. It must have been quite an unwelcome question.

"The last Grail War was six years ago," Perseus said quietly, tersely, not wanting to dwell on the answer but doing so anyway, "just short of two years before I was sent on the Quest for your Master Bolt. I had the unique luck of being in the right place and the right time to be chosen by the Grail. To make a long story short, between all the battles I and my Servant had, we managed to discern the truth of the Grail," his eyes looked down as his voice softened to a whisper, "we decided to destroy the Grail, obliterating it's physical manifestation, in the hope of the destroying ritual forever," he chuckled coldly, bitterly, "it had even cost my Servant their own life to do so. I saw that accursed cup of tarnished gold shatter and break, releasing a wave of power that destroyed anything in it's path in a conflagration of undying hunger, a fire that consumed all that stood before it, before finally dying out," his eyes raised, showing glazed orbs, "I was lucky to have survived," he admitted, "being so close to the epicentre, I should have been ashes," he smiled slightly at his father, who had tensed at the words of his son.

"Thankfully, my Father's blood saved me from that, the resistance to heat and flame coming in handy," the smile turned to an ugly scowl, "the Grail didn't let me off easy though. Out of spite and malice and vengeance, it was able to curse me, sealing my memories and the skills I had learnt during that time. A fitting vengeance in it's opinion, the mind knowing it has lost something precious, even as the soul remembered, but was unable to recall it, no matter how hard it tried, continuously feeling as if they lacked something, were incomplete, it was maddening," he smiled slightly again looking at Hades' son "I am more grateful than ever that you convinced to bathe in the Styx. The sheer power of that river managed to burn away the curse, though it still took a few months form my memories to return."

Eyes as green as the sea but hollow, as if emotion was drained from it, looked around at the table once more, "the Grail War has begun anew, somehow, someway," he raised his branded hand again, "and I have been chosen once more," his eyes lost there hollow look, sharpening, hardening , until they were emerald steel, "this time, I will not let the Grail revive. By whatever means necessary, it will be destroyed," the now clenched was brought down with a loud thump, rattling the table.

"_Permanently_."

* * *

Poseidon could stare at the resolved and determined form of his son for a moment.

This night had been one of revelations, bad and good, though it was mainly distressing for The Lord of the Seas.

He had watched as his son spun a tale of woe, of heroes and wishes, of corruption and power. Something that he had lived through before, and he hadn't known.

He also noticed the changes in his son, even before the enemy had attacked. A slightly stiffer posture, a readiness to move, offensively or defensively, at a moments not. His hand never drifting far from Anaklusmos, ready to wield it at a moments notice. His sea green eyes, a match for his own, constantly flickered around, eying everything for a threat or possible escape route, appearing as hardened gems, the usual emotion absent.  
It had honestly worried the divine father, having never seen his normally emotional son, so full of life and fire, seem so distant and cold. He hadn't known what had happened, having not seen his son since the last winter solstice, but he knew something major had happened. Something that was able to drastically change his son.

To find out it was recovered memories, memories of a small scale war of the gods no less, had been quite a shock.

And, worst of all, _he had never known about it before this day!_

Considering Poseidon, generally, at least had a glimpse of his son once a week? This was concerning and indicated a degree of interference that had him on the point of rage. Whether it was an aversion spell or even taking memories of his son away for a brief time, The Lord of the Seas will get his answers.

What ever the cost.

"In short," his son spoke to the quiet room, shifting the Earth-shaker from his thoughts to listen, "there is now another war happening and I have been chosen," the word was practically spat off of his son's tongue in disgust, " to participate," the emerald eyes, mirror's of his own, of the young half-blood looked around firmly, "it would be best if you readied yourselves for the carnage and destruction that will soon follow."

There wasn't much Poseidon could say about that. If all of what his son said was true, and he didn't doubt it for a minute, then destruction was most certain to follow. Most deities didn't worry about trivial matters like collateral damage after all.

"An intriguing tale, Perseus," Poseidon groaned inwardly as his rival spoke up. This wasn't going to be pleasant. "I would normally call you a liar if you gave such an outlandish story," her grey eyes were cool as she looked at his son intently, calculatingly, "but the events of tonight have given you the benefit of the doubt, as has the fact that Apollo has yet to call you out on a lie."

The blonde sun God shrugged, "I ain't gonna rain on his parade. He's been shooting straight with us from the word 'go'."

"But I would like confirmation," Athena continued, acting as if Apollo had not interrupted at all. Poseidon bristled slightly, hearing the underlying disbelief and skepticism that still lingered in Owl-head's voice. She still didn't trust his son?! Even after all he has done?

"You mentioned you were in a previous war," Athena went on, her eyes sharpened, something that would normally pin anyone in place. His son merely looked directly back her, meeting her eyes, completely unintimidated, "where did it take place?"

Perseus responded quickly and easily, as answering a question about the weather, but the answer still shook many and cleared an lingering doubts amongst the assembled, "Detroit, Michigan."

It took only a moment for Poseidon to decipher the answer, before he hissed sharply, gripping his son's shoulder firmly.

June 2004. The Crimson Summer.

In that month, in the city of Detroit, was the worst death toll recorded in the city.

It had started in the first week, more reports of missing persons and unexplained property damage appearing overnight, neighbours nearby having heard nothing.

In the second week, bodies began to appear. In the lakes and rivers, on the sides of roads. Each of them dying by what seemed to be weapon wounds. Vicious slices across the throat or a hole pierced through the heart. Confirmed murders had reached double digits by mid-week, sending the city into a frenzy and had everyone scared for their lives.

It was the same over the next two weeks, more death and blood. Until it finally reached a climax.

June 30, 2004. The Day of the Vermillion Crater.

On that day, it had been reported by the mortal broadcasts that an explosion, and resulting fire, had taken place in the suburbs of Detroit. Emergency services had assembled quickly at scene, only to find a scene out of hell.

An entire city block had exploded, making a massive crater running almost twenty foot deep, encompassing the entire block. The home that had been there, were little more than burning dust in the wind, spreading and fanning the flames to reach the outer limits. The front of that fire was like a massive dark red wall, a curtain of heat that no-one could pass through, and was spreading quickly, the summer months heat aiding the birth of this inferno.

It wasn't just one massive fire either. Thanks to the explosion spreading burning debris, numerous had broken out, landing in derelict and occupied homes alike. It made the fighting harder, forcing the services to do battle on multiple fronts in an effort to save who and what they could.

They didn't always succeed.

No one was quite sure of the exact death toll, the government had kept things quiet, but thanks to the scarcity of the populace in the city, it wasn't quite as bad as it might have been in a more populated area or city.

But it was still horrible enough, going into the upper double digit figures officially in regards to civilian casualties. Unofficially, the fire had burnt even bones to ash, leaving many families to futilely hope that their missing loved ones would return to them.

Twenty-Five emergency services personnel, a mix of medics, police and fire-fighters, had also fallen to the flames, trapped by the heat as they tried to rescue others.

The aftermath had been horrific. Damages numbering in the billions of dollars, infrastructure shattered. There had been even more deaths attributed to the fire's aftermath, the cause, as revealed to the public, was a dangerous chemical that burnt and spread with the flame and ashes.

It was arguably the single greatest disaster that had befallen the city.

And his son was involved in both of them.

"Detroit?" The Wisdom Goddess said in question, before her eyes widened to dinner plates, "the Holy Grail War was the cause of the Crimson Summer?"

Percy nodded wearily, "part of the War was keeping it a secret, which made many of the Master and Servant pairs have 'no witnesses' policy, something neither I nor my Servant ever participated in, indeed we attempted to prevent such atrocities," his face turned grim, "not that it did much good, in the end."

Athena frowned slightly, her lips pursed in thought, "I take it the Vermillion Crater had something to do with the war as well? Perhaps an unintended side effect?"

Hephaestus snorted, "that's one hell of a side effect."

Percy merely nodded once more, "the Grail really didn't want to go quietly. In response to my Servant's and mine final attack, it threw everything it had against us, trying to keep itself intact. When the two energies met," he shrugged, "you can guess what happened."

The room fell quiet, all,of them digesting the news that they had received. It was, even to the eldest amongst them, a nigh unbelievable tale, a fierce knock to their pride that such an event, with possible cataclysmic consequences, had gone unnoticed by them. But proof was seen and experienced, with the intruder able to escape their wrath, repel it even, after nearly committing regicide, and the words of the young man many of them thought they knew, but truly didn't.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Poseidon thought that they didn't have a choice.

"So," began his youngest brother, his eyes crackling with suppressed power, "in summation, we have a tainted and corrupted artefact, of immense power, able to alter reality to it's will, being fought to the death over by what seems to be Gods of some stripe or another, in my lands," his calm voice was belied by the slowly flushing face and the heavy scent of ozone hanging in the suddenly stifling room. Many of the Members of the Council, and their children, slowly drew back from the incipient explosion of Mt. Zeus, "is this correct?"

Percy didn't even flinch at the King's swelling rage, "yes, sir."

'_Thar she blows,_' Poseidon muttered as thunder rumbled in the silence, the King, beet red, looking ready to explode into a tirade.

Thankfully, he was halted from watching his brother throw another temper tantrum by the emerald green glow that erupted. Muttered oaths and curses were heard, even as any and all turned to the source of the light.

Standing tall, with eerie green eyes glowing brightly and crimson locks wreathing her head like an auburn flame, was the Oracle of Delphi, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, from where she had been seated near a now startled Apollo.

Her glowing eyes cut through the room, ignoring everyone, even the gods themselves, before laying her eyes on his son. A bolt of fear and trepidation went through The Lord of the Seas. What new hell had decided to descend upon them?

_"I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach seeker, and ask_," her voice spoke, in a warped tone, but still somewhat musical.

"Apollo?!" Zeus growled in questioned warning, barely holding onto his temper.

"This ain't me, Pops" Poseidon's nephew said with a frantic shake of his hands, obviously not wanting to be on the receiving end of his father's Master Bolt.

Perseus sighed and Poseidon thought he heard his son mutter something along the lines of 'cursing his Origin', whatever that meant, before looking into the eyes of the Oracle and asking firmly and clearly, "what is my Quest?"

The Oracle drew a breath and began to speak, her tone warping even more, even as a spectral figure began to appear behind her, indistinct for the moment,

"_**Time for the gathering of Seven has come,  
Those from the beginning and the end of the sun**_,"

It took barely a moment for Poseidon, and the rest of the Gods, to understand those two lines od the prophecy. Collective winces went around the table as, suddenly, the Gods all felt a scrabbling at their mental defences, like something wanted to take over.

'_Silence, Neptune,_' Poseidon sent mentally, more calmly than his other brethren, '_now is not the time.'_

Poseidon sighed softly in relief as his second personality departed, returning to its slumber. Thankfully, that had not been difficult for him to do. Despite the natures of his other form, they both managed to get along fairly well.

Though that may be because of the lack of respect the Romans showed his counterpart, or at least not as much respect. Something about them fearing the sea he believed. Either way, due to this treatment, Neptune was leaning a bit more towards acceptance of the Greeks, or at least some mutual respect, and allowed himself to work with his Greek counterpart when needed.

This was in stark contrast to the others of the Council, save perhaps Aphrodite and Apollo, who looked like their heads were about to split open, their personalities at war with each other for dominance.

It soon passed as the next lines of the new prophecy were uttered.

"**_Seven joining with seven more,  
All Allies against Black in the war,_**"

Poseidon frowned, trying to interpret the meaning of the words, even as the indistinct figure behind the Oracle became more distinguishable. The see through pale blue spectre now being an outline of an armoured man, easily over six feet tall, with a long beard, white as could be, reaching mid-chest, in line with his heart.

A choked sob was heard, drawing Poseidon's attention for a moment from the Oracle. A glance at source...revealed it to be his son.

Percy's eyes were red with unshed tears as he looked at the Oracle...no, at the figure behind the Oracle. There was grief in his red rimmed sea green eyes as he stared at the figure, ignoring anything else. There was also a longing, a desire there. It wasn't romantic in any form of the word, but Percy's love and his heart were in his eyes as he looked at the figure.

Percy obviously recognised him, and wanted very much for him to be real. Yet another thing he had not known about his own son. Something that he would remedy if he had anything to say about it.

Another cry, this time from near his rival, drew his attention.

"Annabeth," Athena said sharply, alarmed, stooping low to where her daughter had fallen off of her chair, clenching one hand over the back of another as a crimson light shone through the cracks between the fingers and illuminated through the covering hand. Poseidon was even able to see the shadows of the girl's fine bones through the shining flesh.

"**_Sons of the Earth are your foes,  
Seven pairs to make the final blows_**,"

Amongst the Gods, faces paled in realisation, Poseidon himself included.

Gigantes. Gigantes and probably Gaia as well. It hadn't even been a year since the conclusion of the Titanomachy and now they faced foes that were even stronger than the Titans themselves!

It was times like these that Poseidon truly hated Fate.

The spectral figure was now more detailed. Silver armour in the form cuirass and bracers with a silver point like helm leaving his weathered face and neck open. He wore white silk ballooning pants, soft, almost slipper like, footwear and a white sash. His features were stern, yet kindly, and filled with compassion, despite the blank look in his bright blue eyes, like there was nobody there.

"**_Beyond the Gods, it will begin,  
Storm or fire, who will win?_**"

Everyone stared as the Oracle wound down, the eerie glow in her eyes vanishing abruptly, along with the spectral figure that had hovered behind her, despite an almost silent cry of protest from his son.

"Whoa," the Oracle muttered, a hand on her head and table respectively, as she closed her eyes on order to regain her balance and composure, "that was weird."

The Oracle opened her emerald orbs again, now much steadier on her feet, and was greeted by the stares of shock and horror from the various people within the room.

"Ummm," she said uncertainly, nervous at all the attention she was suddenly getting, "was it something I said?"

* * *

Well folks, how did you like the chapter?

I know that this wasn't filled with action, and I am sorry for that, but I had to make this chapter a setup one, something that play a part in preparation for the oncoming struggle. I know this isn't my best work, but I needed to get this out there, so sorry for the long delay in posting.

For Fate purists, there is no Clocktower or Zelretch or Apostles or many of the other things that are in Nasuverse. As I said, this is just me trying to adapt a Holy Grail War for PJverse, hopefully this will work. That said, don't just expect only Greek/Roman heroes to be Servants.

In fact, a bit of competition for all of you. Guess the figure that appeared with this new prophecy, and I will let you choose two Servants, one for Red and one for Black, to be used in the fic. As a hint, the figure would be most suited for Archer class. He was also a character in the Mahabarata, an Indian epic. Let me know by review and I will then post the winner on my profile.

In the next chapter, the gathering of the Greeks of the Seven, revelations of Roman kind, and the obligatory 'I ask of you; are you my Master?' Scene.

See ya around,  
Kujikiri21


	3. Chapter 3

Olympus Apocrypha

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Fate Stay Night or Fate Apocrypha

AN:Hey everyone. Sorry about taking so long for my story, but I had others on the go. Thanks for all of the reviews you guys have given me so far. In regards to the Servants summoned in this chapter. I will show you guys the basic stats, real names and personal skills of two of them revealed in this chapter, the ones summoned by the Greeks of the Seven, and the rest of the Red team when they arrive at Camp Jupiter. The Black faction, in it's entirety, will be featured in either the next chapter or the one after. However, the Noble Phantasms will only be revealed when they are used in the story. I have to keep you guys wanting more in some way don't I? :)

* * *

Perseus looked onto the blood red dawn the next morning, unleashed by the rays shining in his eyes as an uncharacteristically grim expression lined his face, even as he tried to savour the dawn air, trying to relax.

Things were not all well within Camp.

Especially with four Masters making up the population, one of which was his girlfriend. He could only be thankful that he would fighting side by side with all of them, instead of eventually having to fight them.

The end of last night had proven more than a little hectic.

_FLASHBACK_

_Percy sighed heavily, slumping in his chair, as the Oracle looked around confused and Athena worried over the health of his girlfriend and her daughter, Annabeth._

_He knew more Masters would be chosen, but he hadn't expected one of them to be her. Though he might have guessed, especially if his hypothesis was correct. Something that Caster had said ringing true and, hopefully, giving him a way out of this mess._

_Though, if he ever got ahold of the Fates... A bloodbath wouldn't even begin to describe the aftermath._

_Consequences be damned._

_"And so another is chosen," he said calmly, cutting through the babbling and arguments amongst his divine family, even his father joining in. He looked at a worried Annabeth, straight in the eyes, "please show me your hand, beloved," he said softly._

_He ignored the blinking around him, focused only on the woman who held his soul in the palm of her hand, even as he ignored the glare of Athena and the soft squeals of the Lady of Doves. To them, saying such a thing was out of character for the 'Percy' they knew._

_For him, it was returning to and remembering what he was taught by Archer during that one month period._

_Blushing slightly, Annabeth held up her hand, baring the brand marked back of it._

_A quick glance of the marking, crimson glowing, seeming etched into the skin and bleeding a little, showed that is was authentic to the experienced Grail War Master._

_"It is definitely a Command Seal," Percy commented._

_Athena carefully examined her daughter's hand gently, even as the rest of the gods returned to their seats. It looked like a stylised owl, separated into three sections. One wing held high, one foot stepping forward and a forward facing head with body._

_"It seems quite different than yours," Athena said with a tone of annoyance and disapproval._

_Percy shrugged. Before he tone would have made him nervous, now, he didn't care less. He had experienced horrors and come out changed and stronger, but unbroken. A god's wrath, while still dangerous, didn't really phase him now. "No two Command Seals are ever the same in my experience. Considering their are supposed to link souls together, it stands to reason that the seals may take a form that represents the soul of the bearer in some way."_

_"So Annabeth's one of these Masters?" Questioned Nico in the place of his father, who looked like he was about to speak._

_Percy nodded quietly, "which means I will have to walk her through the summoning ritual in order for her to summon her Servant," he choked a bit on the last word, remembering the spectre that had been behind the Oracle when she gave the prophecy. It had been so long, he had almost forgotten his face, much to his shame._

_Archer? Would you still answer my call? Percy gripped a hand over his heart, feeling the soft thrum of power behind the walls of his flesh, blood and bone, the feeling of a soft golden light suffusing him invisibly for a moment, helping him to relax._

_"You know the summoning?" Demeter asked, looking wholely surprised, "but I thought that...?"_

_"The Grail aided me the first time," he interrupted, "it used a sudden outburst of my power as a catalyst through the Command Seals it branded on me just before, to summon my Servant." Percy grimaced, "of course, as with everything that is done in a hurry, the results were not perfect, leaving my Servant weakened a little by the improper summoning, as they need power from their Master to keep themselves existing, which placed us at an immediate disadvantage against our enemies. If my Servant wasn't as strong and skilled as he was, or if, even through his tutoring, I was unable to eventually fix the bond, we would have been dead within the first fortnight."_

_Ares chuckled slightly in glee, "now your making me curious, punk," he said with a grin, "who was your Servant that he was so powerful, even when he was weakened?"_

_Percy scowled slightly, not willing to sully his friend's name to answer the War God, but knowing he had to give some type of answer, "I just called him Archer. It was what he went by so he could hide his identity and, thus, weakness from our enemies."_

_Percy inwardly smiled at the annoyance on Ares' face. He may respect him, a little, in hindsight due to his old memories being restored, but he doubted he would ever get along with the War God._

_Percy wasn't one to make unnecessary conflict. He just finished them. Completely._

_Percy noticed Hephaestus and his wife stiffen slightly, looking out through the windows towards their respective cabins, obviously feeling something wrong._

_"Oh my," gasped the Lady of Doves, even as her husband grunted in surprise and shock._

_It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what they had felt, not when Percy had all the pieces of the puzzle, or at least most of them._

_"One of yours became Masters as well?" Hades asked them before Percy could, honestly proving to the child of the Seas that he was the smarter of the Big Three. Love him though he did, his father, while smart, intelligent and knowledgable, wasn't quite up there with Athena and Hades in his opinion._

_A quiet nod was all he received, but truly was the only thing needed._

_"Anyone want to bet that two more were branded when the Oracle went off?" Dionysus asked dryly, sipping his can of Pepsi, "with Peter and Annie, plus whoever summoned the monkey man, that would make seven."_

_"Three more actually," Percy corrected._

_Apollo blinked in unison with everyone else before he interjected, "but I thought that the War was supposed to be a seven way free for all. Unless I miss my numbers, 7 minus 1 equals 6," he counted off on his hands, "you, Athena's girl, one each from H and Aph's cabin, and two more unseen. That is six."_

_"And I would agree with you," he said with a nod, "but something the intruder said and the prophecy that just spouted from Rachel have made me think otherwise. Something about this war is going to different."_

_"What do you mean?" Hera asked, leaning forward in her throne, her brown eyes piercing the young Sea Spawn intently._

_"The intruder introduced himself as 'Caster of **Black**'," he explained, "if it was a normal War, he would have just identified himself as only Caster, which is one of the seven roles a Servant can take in the War." He sighed heavily, "with the new great prophecy, and the one just heard, I think it is going to come down to seven half-bloods, with their own Servants, facing an equal number of opposing Servants and their Masters, of a Black team."_

_His hardened green eyes pierced all there, mortal or immortal, "This means that there are going to be, at least, fourteen Servants running around, seven of which are going to be backed by 'Sons of the Earth ' and the others backed by delicate mortal half-bloods. Definitely not the fun of the fair."_

_Deep intakes of breath were heard as they all understood what he meant, his father's grip on his shoulder tightening greatly._

_He was so tired now, his heart and soul wrung out. He just wanted to rest, to let those memories, cherished and despised, good and bad, of those days, to return to the depths of his mind._

_"Lord Zeus," he asked in the quiet, drawing the God King's attention with his, to the divinity, unusual manners, "I have given you what information I can in regards to the current plight facing Olympus. If it pleases you, I ask that you inform the Masters who have just obtained the marks to meet me in the Arena tomorrow, so we can go about summoning the Servants so this Quest can begin. With this prophecy just given, we will be able to track down the last few Masters on our side and make our way to the staging ground of the War, where will fight our opponents, and crush this blight upon the earth."_

_"I agree that the Quest should begin as soon as possible," Zeus rumbled in agreement, his eyes narrowing slightly, "but there are certain... issues... With the prophecy and it's meaning. Issues that we Gods have kept to ourselves, for your own safety."_

_Percy nodded, "I suspected as much with your collective reactions during Rachel's outburst."_

_Thunderous eyes narrowed even more, "You are far more observant than you were," the words were idle even if the stare was fierce. He could feel his father stiffen, ready to move. He obviously thought his youngest brother may do something... Precipitous._

_"A skill I learned at my Servant's feet during the last War," he demurred, "it, along with a few other skills, were locked away at the same time my memories were."_

_Eyes narrowed even further, "It seems you are far different than what I had believed you to be," Zeus looked long at him, as if judging him, "whether that is good or ill remains to be seen."_

_Percy didn't shift an inch, looking at the King with complete calm._

_Zeus kept his eyes on him, even as he addressed his son and daughter-in-law, "Hephaestus, Aphrodite, inform your chosen children to be in the Arena at high noon tomorrow," after the nods, Zeus' eyebrow quirked in question at Perseus, "is there anything else required for this **Summoning**?"_

_Perseus shrugged, "It depends on how it is performed. One way, we can choose the hero summoned, one of great power and fame, using a catalyst, something that represents the legend of Hero you desire at your side. An example being a fragment of the King of Conquerors, Iskander of Macedonia's cloak will summon Alexander the Great. This, however, runs the risk of summoning a Servant that you are not compatible with, despite the power of the individual, leading to ruin for yourself and your Servant. United we stand, divided we fall and all that."_

_Many raised an eyebrow in wonder at that, no doubt thinking of the various heroes of their own blood and the opportunity to summon them to the world once more. Mothers and Fathers able to speak to their children, brothers and sisters to know them for real rather than in the pages of history._

_"And the other way?" Athena asked in interest. Her grey eyes intent, though a trifle puzzled at the 'King of Conquerors' title._

_"The other way is to, in a way, send out a beacon," he explained, "you push your spirit out, showing your true nature, and a spirit responds. Whether they be strong or weak, is rather pot luck. Even 'good' and 'evil' is up for grabs."_

_"What?" Spluttered Drew Tanaka of Aphrodite Cabin, "but I thought you said Heroes would be summoned. How does evil come into play?"_

_"Have you even read the legends?" Percy asked rhetorically, "in many myths, the 'hero' of the story accomplished many great feats, but also committed acts of depravity that are disgusting by any standard. As much as I dislike to think of it, my half-brother Orion is the perfect example of that."_

_Many in the room winced at the name, Artemis' face filled with a rage that mirrored her twin's. Despite his rather impressive feats, he was truly little more than a selfish savage. Even his father had truly regretted siring the man, such was his disgust towards his own offspring._

_"Another part of it is the nature of the Throne of Heroes, which is inherently neutral despite other beliefs. I said you needed enough fame. Infamy works just as well. Vlad the Impaler, Elizabeth Bathory the Bloody Countess, Jack the Ripper, Tamamo-no-Mae the Bewitching Vixen even Frankenstein's Monster managed to get in there. All of these and such of their ilk, also dwell within the Throne and can be summoned. As well as heroes from other religions. Karna the Son of the Sun God, Robin Hood, Miyamoto Musashi the Sword Saint, Attila the Hun, Julius Caesar, Horatius the Defender, Siegfried the Dragon-Blooded Knight, Beowulf the Bane of Monsters, Moses, Ramses the Second. I could go on forever. Wherever there is man, there are heroes and villains, and the Throne holds them all."_

_Everyone, and he did mean **everyone**, stared at him._

_Percy blinked as he realised that with that speech, it was the most animated he had been all night._

_"There are other pantheons out there?" Asked his beloved with awe, looking at her mother, "truly?"_

_"Yes, there are," Athena responded with a slight purse of the lips, "though they generally tend to stay in there own ancestral lands rather than move as the West does. There have been some conflicts between us at times because of this due to the increase of Western influence, but nothing truly major except for the Shinto during World War II. Nevertheless, every pantheon tries to keep clear of the others, just so nothing really **does** happen."_

_"It is something we try to keep a lid on," Hermes explained, "encouraging any children of ours who do have encounters with others to keep quiet about it. Less confusion that way."_

_"Agreed," nodded Athena, before she turned back to her daughter's paramour, who she was now scrutinising even more with his change in attitude, "though it appears you are quite well read to be able to list so many."_

_"I looked through the various myths and legends after my memories returned," he said with a slight shrug, "it helped me get my bearings, to be able to balance my mind between the old and new memories," he chuckled slightly, true humour and fondness in it as he reached into his shirt to draw out an old paperback, caressing it slightly, "this was the first one I obtained once things began coming back."_

_He felt his father stretch in order to look down and see the title. He helped him out._

_"The **Mahabharata**. The Hindu equivalent of the **Iliad**. Describing a fourteen day war, called the Kurukshetra War, and the events that lead up to it, between two sides numbering in the millions. Gods and demons, heroes and villians. Many were the number of Hindu Half-bloods involved in that struggle," he smiled at Ares, who looked to be in ecstasy at what he had described, "the Kurukshetra War was the Hindu version of the Trojan War...without the sordid heartbreak and romance._

_"It was also the battle that my Servant had been in before he died and ascended to the Throne," he smiled sadly, remembering the days when Archer had taught him after a hellish night. How to read, to think, manners, the arts, martial discipline and so much more._

_He glanced at Annabeth, her nose slightly twitching in that curious and cute way of hers, "it was he that you saw standing behind Rachel when she prophesied."_

_A flick of his wrist and the book was now in his beloved's lap, "Please give it back when your done, it is a reminder that I do not wish to lose."_

_Percy slowly stood, looking at the table as he did so, locking eyes with his royal uncle, "By your leave Lord Zeus, I will retire for tonight so that I can be prepared the next morning."_

_Zeus nodded in agreement, "This meeting is adjourned," he declared with a rumble of thunder, "we will recommence at high noon in the Arena. This summoning will be seen and believed."_

_The deities all began to leave, their thrones and bodies flashing out of existence, returning to Olympus. Soon, only Dionysus and his father remained._

_Poseidon looked his son in the eyes, "I think we will need to have a long talk, sometime soon. Privately."_

_Percy looked up at him, The Lord of the Sea's gut unclenching for the first time that night as he saw his son's familiar crooked grin at last, "Indeed," he said with a nod, "after the summoning?"_

_Poseidon nodded, a small smile on his face, patting his child on the back, and vanishing in a swirl of water._

_Percy looked at the absent spot for a moment, before he left to his own cabin._

_The long and tiring day finally ended._

_But a new one, a longer one, would start._

_Tomorrow._

_END FLASHBACK_

Percy sighed heavily, closing his eyes as the dawn breeze and the soft light of Apollo's charge washed over him. He could remember, back during those times, having to fight and move all night, keeping up with a legendary hero turned almost-deity despite not even being in his teens, the darkness was both their ally and foe. Aiding their concealment while doing the same for their better prepared enemy. It was only as the new day dawned, liquid gold flowing onto the streets, that all fighting was halted, none of them willing to chance drawing the attention and ire of beings capable of squashing them.

It was because of those days that he welcomed and loved the dawn.

Dawn represented safety, survival and life to him from then on. It still did even when the memories were sealed and suppressed.

But this sunrise, Apollo's orb was crimson as spilt blood, reflected his views of the coming struggle. Not even a year after the Crooked Bastard had bought the farm, permanently this time, another war and battle drifts into view from time's horizon.

Percy's shoulders hunched. The only time worse during _those_ days, was the hour of dusk, when the enemy emerged from their shelters of the day, and proceeded to hunt and fight and kill, their actions filled with blind righteousness, their goal excusing all means, as they stepped upon a blood drenched path to the Grail.

He despised those times, wishing the gone and forgotten, even as he equally loved them, his partner being a salve on his battered soul even as the bond grew.

And now, those days were awoken from their dirt nap he thought he and Archer had put them in permanently.

His eyes became chips of emerald, hard and cold. Things would be different this time. He was faster, stronger and more skilled than ever before. Even his magecraft, despite not being used for such a long time, had even improved, waiting for him to call upon it, for it to devour the enemy.

He once had to stand aside, to hide, like a coward, as Archer fended off all foes, helpless and weak and unsure of his place in the world.

Now though, he clenched a fist, rather than be forced to cower due to the disparity of power, he would be able to proudly stand beside the Oathbound Prince, as friend and comrade once more.

His equal.

So locked in his thoughts was he, that he almost missed the gleaming form of Athena's daughter, his beloved, as she slowly strode toward him, her hair a bright gold as the light if dawn bounced off it.

Paying more attention, he saw the signs.

Narrowed eyes, a worried lip, a furrowed brow and a twitching pair of hands.

Percy sighed slightly, resigning himself to the interrogation he was about to receive from his girlfriend as she strode with purpose towards him.

He knew it was going to happen. He knew her too well.

Just as well he was prepared.

* * *

Annabeth Chase, Leader of Cabin Eight, daughter of Athena, was a young woman on a mission.

Last night, her world had been turned inside out, never mind upside down, with the amount of revelations taking place.

Holy Grails, Heroic Spirits, Magi, other Pantheons. All of which was beyond confusing. But she managed to take it all in stride, stubborn disbelief despite clear evidence was not a wise trait after all, just as a child of Athena should. However, there was one particular revelation that had her on edge, and making her scold herself for not seeing it months earlier.

Percy was no longer the Percy she thought she knew.

About a month after they had began an official relationship, she had noticed slight changes in him. Subtle and small ones, barely noticeable, but in hindsight seemed to be greater than she had originally thought.

Increased focus on jobs at hand. A more studious demeanour. A way of taking things far more seriously. More thoughtful and patient. An drive to excel that seemed crafted from the bones of the earth itself.

She could pick up on these things, remember them, after spending a sleepless night going over her interactions with her boyfriend after the revelations.

She had thought that these changes were because of his growing maturity. Obviously, there had been more to it.

These changes, and ones she probably hadn't unconsciously noticed, all revolved around memories that had been released, ones that had been locked away.

Ones she hadn't been able to share with him.

It made her ill at ease. She had thought she knew who her boyfriend was, what was inscribed in his deepest hearts of hearts. She had thought she knew what made him tick, what made him think.

What was held dearest to him.

She had thought she knew. Now she wasn't so sure, even as she desperately hoped that that part him, the one that held golden hair and grey eyes close to him, hadn't changed.

She didn't think she could cope if it had.

To see into the heart of this morass of these emotions and thoughts, there was only one thing she could do, something that was, not exactly anathema but certainly not her most favoured of plans. She needed to be bold, blunt and forceful.

She needed to grab the bull by the horns.

She needed to confront her problems head on.

She needed to talk to Percy, bluntly and forcefully, without any hidden agenda, forthrightly.

This, thus, brought her in the early hours, barely at the break of day, had her striding up the shirt path that led to Cabin Three.

Much to her surprise, her grey eyes, calculating and observant, saw the relaxed form of her boyfriend as he reclined on the grass around his cabin, his bare torso, his visible muscles compacted and toned, creating the much sought after V-cut and six pack abs, much to her embarrassed pleasure, leaned on the wall of said cabin as he looked towards the ocean. A small breeze stirred his short, dark locks of hair idly as his gaze never wavered from the blood crimson sun, something that made her want to scold, doing something so potentially damaging.

But that was small potatoes compared to what she really wanted from the child of Poseidon, her Seaweed Brain.

As if sensing the directions of her thoughts, despite her being not quite within earshot, his head turned towards her.

Her own steel grey eyes met the hard emerald of Perseus. She kept approaching, eyes locked and not saying a word. She would save them up for her little fact finding mission, a quiet one, rather than shouting them for half the camp to hear.

To her surprise, the face that had not held a true smile for the last week as far as she could recall, slowly let his lips turn upward slightly, even if his eyes turned slightly resigned, and gestured to a bare patch of grass that was directly beside him, before turning back towards the rising sun.

Annabeth frowned. Did he just blow her off? She shook herself. No. No, even if the world burned, he wouldn't do that. The brief thought still stung slightly though, gnawing at her uncertainty on who he truly was, rather than what she thought he had been.

She quietly took the offered seat, using the wall of Poseidon's cabin to slide down beside the one she hoped still held heart. Neither of them spoke for a time, a silence that was both familiar and tense falling between them. She had so many things that she wanted to say, so many questions to ask, that she didn't even know where to begin. She felt like she was almost bursting at seams, wanting to explode with her inquiries but pure willpower preventing her tongue from tripping over itself. She knew if she started to speak, this whole conversation would go downhill faster than Sisyphus' boulder.

Thankfully for her, she wasn't the one to break the silence.

"I remember when I first saw a sunrise," Percy said softly, jolting her out of her whirling thoughts enough to hear what he was saying, "I must have been six or seven, not exactly sure of the precise date, and Mum and I were at Montauk. She had managed to get some time off work and had a friend drop us at the cabin. The _foul malodorous pig_," she could hear him spit the words, disgust in every one of them, and if she was correct in who he was referring to, she completely agreed. She had had a few talks with Sally Jackson over the past year, stories and opinions traded to and fro. Her former husband had only come up once, the stony expressions on both mother and son made sure she never brought it up again, "was gone on a trip some where in Michigan, so he was wasn't a factor," he smiled slightly, softly and slightly crooked, a Percy smile she had seen for as long as she had known him, even if they had rarely come up over the last few months. It put her at ease somewhat.

Somewhere in there, her Percy still existed.

"I was a little restless the first day after we arrived," he continued, "so I ended up awakening when it was still dark. I clambered out of bed, quietly passed my sleeping Mum and went down the beach, sitting in the sand as my feet brushed the waves as they rolled in, a steel grey to match the sky," he smiled softly, "it was probably one of the most relaxing times of my life," he chuckled ruefully, "or even the only relaxing time of my life."

Despite herself, Annabeth couldn't help but smirk. Considering his life, she wasn't surprised. Trouble seemed to follow him like a lost puppy.

"Then I saw the faint glimmer on the horizon," he smiled, his lips curling lightly, "a dim red circle, slowly ascending into the heavens. With every moment that passed, it grew brighter, from red to orange to a burning gold. As I watched, I couldn't help but think of the life it lived, ever shining, ever bright. A life I desperately wanted to strive, even in those early times," he sighed slightly, "to me, that shining orb was the symbol of hope, a part of a dream I wanted to make come true," he grimaced then, his face and shoulders tensing and flexing, making her distracted for a moment as he took in the shifting of his bared muscles, "during the Grail War, I came to see it as nothing more than a sign of a ceasefire, a signal that I had survived another night of Hell, a portent that life would go on... At least until the darkness came once more," his face hardened, turning to the stony features that she had seen so recently and yet remained alien to her, creating the mask of an angered warrior legend, his wrath so hard, so cold that it _burned_, "and that be damned and befouled vessel forced me to forget that lesson and more. Lessons, skills, knowledge and more, that could have been the key to keeping a few more of my friends, my _family_, alive."

Annabeth lowered her head in respect for the dead, even as he agile mind began to put the pieces together, almost profiling this stranger in Percy's skin.

Perhaps she had been too hasty, too quick, about knowing her boyfriend. She had always been surprised by him before, his battle tactics being more spur of the moment and instinctive made predicting, anticipating and facing him a nightmare in battle. It was one of his more well known and, to his enemies, feared traits. But, as if to balance that, there was always one thing, one specific line of thought, that always made his enemies know where to strike, where the son Poseidon's weakness lay.

His fatal flaw. His personal loyalty.

His Heart.

Amongst all of his friends and family, he was always willing to lend a hand, to help them however he could, in whatever endeavours they had, often at some expense to himself. Not that he really cared much. To him, his family and friends, his _nakama_ (to use a term she had run across while playing some of the computer RPGs. Some of the presented quite a challenge in the strategy department, much to her surprise), were his world.

And if it meant trading his life for them to have even a second more, he would gladly pay it, even if the world had to burn for it.

To know that he, somewhere, in the deepest depths of his mind and soul, had the ability, the power, the strength, to be able to save some of those he had lost and to not to have used it...

Now she wasn't as sure that her boyfriend had been drowned beneath this new (or old, she wasn't sure which) and less idealistic persona. If she thought about it, given the few scraps of information she had been able to parse from his words, she could admit that this Percy could be her own, if the experiences he implied happened to him had been remembered.

It was both a sobering and oddly comforting thought.

But it still brought up something she wanted to know, needed to know.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" She asked. It was an important question. Relationships, especially ones were desired to be long-lasting, were all about trust. Trusting your partner with your past, your present and your future.

It hurt somewhat that he hadn't shared such a major event, a turning point of his life, with her.

Warm arms suddenly engulfed her, pulling her into a bare muscled chest with a squeak, something that she would fervently deny ever having done forever after. She forced down a heavy flush as her cheek met the solid flesh of her boyfriend. Even if they were in a relationship, they had yet to go this far, so blushing was still allowed. That blushing was pushed to wayside, however, when her head was tilted up, eyes looking into each other for the first time that morning.

The eyes of Perseus were still the same sea green as always, but there was a new light in them. She had seen them in sorrow, plagued with anger, hardened with determination and alight with happiness, but she had never seen this one before.

They seemed to be pools of molten green, burning and rippling as the sunlight seemed to dazzle them, but there was something even deeper in them. A smouldering green fire that seemed to ready to engulf her, hungry for her heart and soul, desiring to claim it. A fierce possessiveness that made her feel like a fragile china doll in his muscular arms.

Her body quivered in response to that strange look, a deep primal response that she didn't know she had let alone control over. The quivering was not in fear, nor in terror. Deep inside herself, it was a deep anticipation, a wanting that made her blood seem to burn.

Paralysed by these new feelings, the hungry fire in her boyfriend's eyes, all she could do was shiver as his hot breath passed her ear as he spoke, "You have seen the changes in me because of what I remembered," he breathed gently, tickling her and making her previous flush seem like nothing, "I love you too much, too hard, to risk that what I remember will change you as much as it changed me," a gentle and warm hand caressed her warm cheek, "you are far too precious to me, a light in the darkness, a pillar of strength that I draw from, to risk losing you to my own abyss," light kisses were showered on her forehead and down her cheek, "even if I must walk a lonely road," those heated lips reached her ear and delicately nibbled, making her moan silently. Di Immortales! What was he doing to her?! "Even if I must bear the burden of all within my sight," her breath came hard and short, gasps of air she tried frantically to swallow as heart pounded faster and harder, as those nibbling teeth and lips worked down her graceful neck, devouring it, before working back up, "I will never chance losing you," the burning lips were now at the corner of her own, even as her hands clenched at her boyfriend's shorts, hoping to keep a hold of her faculties a little longer.

His lips halted, hovering over her own, even as his smouldering eyes were locked with her own wide grey ones, "I am conflicted. I am scared of losing you, the you that you are now," his lips moved, his breathe, a sweet mint, brushing against her own ruby lips, "but I know you deserve the truth. Your nature will not permit anything else," his large hands, rough and powerful yet feeling like silk, caressed both her cheeks, before cupping them, "so I give of myself, so you may know."

So flushed and confused and, dare she admit it, _aroused_, that she didn't have time to interpret her Seaweed Brain's words, before his lips met hers in a fierce lock, his eyes shining even more.

Then everything was tipped on it's head.

As she lost herself in the kiss, each of them devouring the other in their heart-hunger, she could barely feel something, like a river of power and strength, as it passed through her. Even as her body was experiencing pleasure she had never had before, her mind, so confused and twisted, was left wide open. Something that Perseus took advantage of.

Her mind was assaulted with images, almost overwhelming her, except that the majority of her focus was on the lips that met hers and the feel of the hard abs of her boyfriend as they were stroked by her roaming hands.

*****  
_A dark alley, filled with trash and steam emitting from vents placed into the concrete slabs that made up it's floor. In it a boy, small and scared, looked at an approaching figure with fearful green eyes, scrambling on his butt backwards away from the approaching black clad figure, until his back met the wall of the alley. Neither said anything, one approaching silently, stalking, like a hunter does its prey and the other desperately looked for a way out, somehow knowing any pleas for survival he voiced would be ignored._

_The being was close to the boy now, it's skull-like mask catching the dim light of the moon as it raised back the dagger in it's hand, ready to rend the boy of his life. Desperately, the child threw his hands in front of him, a futile attempt at protecting himself, even as something deep within him, startled awake, answered his inner wordless pleas of deliverance._

_The back of the boy's hand, inscribed with a small stigma, like a brand, suddenly lit up in a blinding crimson light, making the figure flinch back and halt it's advance on instinct._

_It would be the last mistake it made._

_The blinding crimson became an incandescent silver, making the alley appear as day, even as a heavy weight seemed to weigh down on the boy, pushing him flat on the ground even as a sudden wave of exhaustion almost robbed him of consciousness. However, he still managed to retain enough of his mind to notice the next sequence of events._

_The skull masked assailant, one that had already killed a man whose body lay just at the entrance of the alley, suddenly jerked back from his startled position, his head snapping back. With an arrow piercing him directly between the eyes and protruding from the back of his skull._

_Dead._

_The boy could only watch in disbelief and horror at the now corpse fell backward, slumping onto the cold concrete, blood pouring like a river from the holes in its skull. Weirdly to the boy, their also seemed to golden sparkles, little lights, that gathered around the dead body, swarming and wrapping around where it fell._

_"Che," a gruff voice interrupted the boy's morbid fascination, "such filth."_

_Ignoring the body, the boy turned to the source of the voice and couldn't help but look in awe._

_He was tall, easily over six feet, and muscular, but not like a body builder, with weathered but smooth skin that was a deep tan. Beneath the long silver beard, the boy could make out the slight scowl as the man looked at the slowly disappearing body of his would be attacker. His silver brows were furrowed as well, matching the spiked helmet and the hair beneath. He was clad in silver armour and silver cloths, making him look like a beam of moonlight upon the darkened sea. In his hand was clasped a massive bow, just below the man's own height, which seemed to be the source of the arrow that had taken his attacker's life._

_There was also a presence about the man, something that the boy couldn't make sense of. A feeling of power, might and majesty, as if he were more than human, above human._

_To the boy, he seemed like a hero that had stepped out of the pages of history to save him._

_Harsh eyes suddenly turned to him, before immediately softening, a soft glow that the boy hadn't really noticed coating this strange man slowly ebbing. Those eyes, so warm, so like his mother's, made him feel like he was protected, as if the hosts of darkness that sought his life would break upon the owner of those eyes, never to reach the boy._

_Even as the boy felt his body relax, exhausted from pumping the adrenaline and the newly awakened power the boy was unaware of, and his sight begin to fall into darkness, he heard one last statement, one that would confuse him even in his dreams._

_"In accordance with summoning, I, Servant Archer, have appeared," the gruff voice of the man-who-was-more-than-man said softly, "I ask of you; are you my Master?"_

_Then darkness engulfed him.  
*******_

The memory passed through her, as if she had read it in a book. She could see the information, understand it, but there was no emotion, no heart in it.

The deep kiss went on, more images filling her lust preoccupied mind.

_****  
The flash of sword, splitting a silver arrow as it streaked towards it's owner. Baleful eyes watching the origin of the missile atop a tall building, hundreds of yards away. The large Archer, with a mere boy at his side, already stringing and firing a barrage of identical missiles at the sword bearing target. The fur covered swordsman growled lowly, spinning one of his three blades, before hurling the now crimson glowing sword toward the pair._

_FLASH_

_A horde of beings, twisted, grotesque and strange, charged full on into a silvery cloud of arrows, screaming and wailing and roaring their war cries, a strange symbol burnt into each of their foreheads, even as, in the distance, a massive temple glowed bright with power, the sounds of hymns heard even over the clash of battle._

_FLASH_

_A woman with hair as crimson as blood, a face painted with black ink, grinned fiercely as she charged in her chariot, thundering toward a stoic Archer and his charge, her bright spear almost howling for blood._

_FLASH_

_Archer was twisting around wildly now, firing his bow at the speed of a machine gun, even as the boy at his side thrusted his hands out now and again, seeming to twist the rain to his will. Each of them picking off the individuals of the skull masked swarm charging them from all angles on the rooftop, scrambling up the walls in order to reach the surrounded pair, like a swarm of spiders._

_FLASH_

_A massive bronze skinned giant charged toward Archer, a veil of crimson hexagons reflecting the silver arrows as he closed in, a massive hammer swinging toward Archer and the boy. Abandoning his attack, Archer swiftly grasped the boy and leapt towards the rooftops. A thunderous BOOOOOOOM and howl of rage was heard even as they both landed._

_FLASH_

_Archer and the boy were in a church. Archer seemed to be slightly tired and blood seeped from his side through the bandages. The boy seemed grim, frightened and determined. They both looked up the aisle towards the altar._

_A large golden cup, as wide as a kitchen sink, sat there, bubbling and frothing with a black liquid that had them both ill at ease. The palpable power and sheer **malice** it exuded told them both that it was what they were looking for. That what they were told was true._

_Cold chuckling had them both broken from their horrified fascination with the tainted vessel, turning towards the source._

_"Well now," the voice purred from the shadows, even as the figure moved into the moonlight piercing through the broken windows of the church, "this is a surprise," the figure chuckled again, pale and sharp features practically leering at them._

_He was dressed all in black. Black armour, black boots, black leggings and a black spear that screamed evil and pain and torture, even as a black liquid dripped from its head._

_"Move yourself Lancer," Archer demanded gruffly, "this whole War was a farce from the beginning. The Grail is corrupted and befouled. It will not grant your wish. Let us pass so we may destroy it before it taints this world more than it already has."_

_Lancer merely smirked slightly, "I already know that," his smirk widened at the eyes of the pair, "who do you think helped it?"_

_Archer and the boy didn't get to say another word, to recover from their shock and surprise, before Lancer was already in front of them, his spear slicing through the side of Archer._

_FLASH_

_Blood._

_FLASH_

_Fire._

_FLASH_

_Anger. Pain._

_FLASH_

_Darkness._

_FLASH_

_Annabeth stumbled, before quickly recovering herself to stand up._

_"What the Styx was **that**?!" She groaned to herself, holding her thumping head in order to relieve what she could of the migraine._

_She groaned again as her mind slowly eased those images, memories she realised, into her organised mind. Not just memories, they were Percy's memories, ones that he had recently recovered._

_She shivered slightly in remembrance. Despite the fact she had not been able to feel the emotion, the fear, that her boyfriend had no doubt felt in every one of those memories, she couldn't help but feel her heart pump faster. Even as removed as she was, like a teen watching a movie, the blood, the slaughter, the death and destruction she had witnessed via her boyfriend's mind, affected her._

_It was almost no wonder that her boyfriend had changed when he had remembered these memories._

_Having sorted her mind, she now observed her surroundings, only to halt at her first glance._

_The place she found herself in was weak in light, but even with the limited light, she could see an endless expanse of a solid black paved stone floor, puddles of water everywhere, each square of the paved floor, each as large as the cabins at Camp, had a tall white marble column situated dead center, reaching almost higher than she could see, ending just before the clouds that filled the sky. Each of the columns was lined up horizontally, diagonally and vertically with another, each of these rows extending out of her sight. She vaguely thought she could see the faint glint of bronze atop the columns but dismissed it as unimportant._

_"What in Olympus?" She whispered in wonderment, walking carefully along the stone floor to examine one of the columns._

_Upon closer inspection, she could see the deep engravings carved into the stone. A picture of someone, slumped onto their knees, and bathed in flames and fire. It was disturbingly realistic. She could see the rips in his shirt, the holes that had been burnt into it and the sword that lay at his side in the cracked ground. A quick glance showed it was repeated up and down and all around the column._

_It reminded her of something, but she couldn't quite place what. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand, curious about this carved piece of artwork. As her fingers came closer, she thought she could feel heat, deep and dull and powerful, like a burning stone, begin to creep up her arm._

_Splosh! Clo-Clo!_

_The strange sound made snap back her hand, trying to identify the sound and where it came from, the heat disappearing. She was quiet, listening hard now, and she could hear the faint trickling of water._

_Following it, she walked through the columns slowly, carefully, slightly apprehensive of what was happening and where she was. As she did so, she noticed the carvings on the columns were all different from the one she had examined, all of them depicting different scenes, but most of them had a similar subject, the teen she had seen in the first one._

_There was one with a rip in his shirt again, near the shoulder, what little of his face that she could see scrunched in pain, and the obvious cause of the injury, a large spike-like object, buried in the wall depicted behind him._

_There was another, his hand and arm swollen grotesquely, as he looked like he was stumbling through a forest._

_These scenes and more were depicted, each seeming more familiar to her than the last._

_Finally, after another frustrating five minutes, her mind going nuts trying to understand why each of the scenes on the pillars felt familiar, she arrived at the source of the sound._

_It was a large square, a clearing of stone amongst this marble forest, the size of a football stadium, seats, field, lockers and all, completely devoid of the columns that otherwise stretched into seeming infinity. But that was only a side thought for the daughter of Athena, as all of her attention was focused on the centre of the otherwise empty space._

_The source of the sound was revealed to several of those tilted bamboo fountains, like the one she had seen in the Kill Bill movie a while ago, arranged in a circle around a black altar, each of them filling with water that seemed to appear from nowhere, filling and emptying in complete unison, creating the loud trickling and hollow clapping noises that had drawn her ear._

_On the altar was the centrepiece, the focus, of this strange, desolate and otherwise silent place. The immense figure of a man, rivalling the Colossus of Rhodes, bare of clothing except for what appeared to be a set of loose leggings, crafted from what seemed to by a mix of stone, bronze and steel, was kneeling hunched with his face to the ground, hair shaped metal hanging in front of the figure's face, hiding it from her view. His two arms were outstretched, palms toward the stormy sky, each holding up a truly immense shallow metal bowl. She didn't know if they contained anything, they were far, far above her head, and at that point she didn't really care._

_Even if it was only because of the immense weight she felt upon entering the square._

_She slumped to the ground, barely able to hold herself up by kneeling. She couldn't move anywhere except down. It terrified something big, as it felt like she was once more holding up the sky._

_Only there was no Artemis to take it for her this time around._

_As she struggled, trying to raise herself, breathing hard, she heard the immense groaning, something she had heard more than once in her Quest beneath the earth, in the Labyrinth._

_The shifting of earth and stone, the grinding of metal, as something that had never known life began to move._

_As she heard the movement of what was undoubtedly the statue, she also felt herself begin to rise, to float, the weight of the world no longer on her shoulders._

_Faster and faster she floated upwards, ever upwards, accelerating faster and faster, rising towards the clouds high above. Before she hit the layer of low clouds, she had a brief glimpse of the bowls the statue held, each of them filled with vivid green glowing liquid, swirling and twisting like twin whirlpools._

_Then she hit the clouds..._

And, with a gasp, Annabeth was thrown back to reality as Percy ended the, literal, soul deep kiss he had been giving her.  
Her thoughts tripped over one another, even as her frazzled mind and panting and burning body tried to calm themselves from what they had experienced.

"What," she croaked slightly, staring blearily at a calm but intense son of Poseidon, his eyes a vivid green, compared to his normal calm sea green, and seeming to whirl before her, "what _was that? What did you do?_" He dry voice, as if parched of water, demanded of the son of the Seas.

She could now see all the memories he had, ones that were hidden from him until recently, run across her mind. Had he just _given her his memories?! Why did he do that? **How** did he do that?_

Percy merely looked at her intently, "You asked to know why I had kept these memories from you, the reason I had changed," his seemed to glow, even in the now brighter sun, "Having seen them, the horrors and terrors that dwelled within, that I had seen," his eyes fell forward, somber now, but no less intense, "that I had done? Can you even blame me? Especially if I wanted to keep you, to stay by your side?"

Annabeth flinched violently, some the memories she had somehow been given coming to the fore. Images of blood and darkness and hands stained crimson. She saw some the actions that he had taken, some of them that would be deemed reprehensible by those who did not understand his reasons.

Part of her was horrified, even disgusted, by the actions of her paramour. Actions that would make even the most forgiving of saints deem him the devil incarnate if they knew. Actions done when he was still a child, innocent of the nature of the world. That part of her told her she should drop him like a hot rock, to break away from him, to cut all ties. Something she thought her Mother would approve of, even without knowing her own reasons.

But she would not do that.

Another part of her, the immensely larger part, while still slightly horrified, merely wanted to take this young man, this scarred soul, into her arms, to hold him close. If she had just been told of his actions by his own mouth, she would have gone with her other side, but by sharing his memories, his thoughts, but not his emotions, or at least not all of them, she was able to sympathise with him, knowing that choices he made were hard, beyond so, but he chose the best path he could with the options he had available, and he grieved deeply for the consequences of each one.

In a perfect world, there would be no bad choices. In a lighter world, there would always be a good choice and a bad one. In reality, sometimes, most of the time, there were only bad choices and worse ones.

She grimaced slightly to herself. Having seen these scenes of blood and slaughter, she now had a very good understanding of the changes that had engulfed her boyfriend, why he had hesitated to confide in her. What he had been through, the acts he had done, in normal society, or at least as normal as you could get for a half-blood, would hardly be condoned, let alone understood for the necessary acts they were. Understanding that, and knowing of his fatal flaw and the deep and powerful connection he had with her, the strong desire to _be_ with her, it was unsurprising that he would hold his tongue, to keep his peace, and struggle through the obstacles and problems caused by the memories by himself.

Understanding all this, knowing his secrets that he had kept, even if she had learned about them in an unusual way, her next actions were not surprising, except to Perseus.

It was now the son of Poseidon's turn to be grabbed and pulled forcefully into an embrace, much to his surprise, his face now squashed firmly between her developing bust, much to his embarrassment.

"I saw everything," she spoke slowly into his ear, soft and gentle, as her hand gently stroked his hair, liking calming a frightened deer, stopping it from bolting, "every strike, every drop of blood that was shed and every spell that caused harm," she could feel the stiff and shuddering frame of her paramour, her partner, as she felt emotions begin to rise within him, ones that were kept suppressed by him for almost a year, dealing with them one at a time, barely making a dent in the sheer number of them. With him now on the edge, teetering above an abyss of madness, they swarmed to the forefront, engulfing his mind even as she knew that he hung onto to her every word.

"And I accept them," she held him tighter, feeling him tremble, burying her face into his hair, smelling the natural scent of the sea that he gave off, "I accept _you_."

As she held him, at the beginning of a new day, she pretended not to hear the choked sobs that came from his throat.

Beneath the rising sun, a heart was cleansed of the rotting guilt and anger and rage that had been festering within it for almost a year, tears washing away their presence, leaving healed scars.

Beneath the rising sun, a mind was filled with knowledge, dark and terrible, and yet was untainted by it's touch, allowing it bond even tighter with it's heart and the one who who held it.

As the new day dawned, the bond between these two lovers survived a heavy trial, stretching and changing, yet growing closer, tighter, stronger and far more powerful. The love between them was no strong enough to endure almost any hardship as each traded the other's darkness for their own.

As Apollo shined bright, as the Camp began to stir to life, thus was born a couple with a bond that would overcome anything.

Together.

* * *

Poseidon settled himself into the seats in the Amphitheatre, seated beside his sister and sister-in-law, Hera, and one of the more tolerable of his nephews, Hephaestus, as they all watched the floor and the gathered group of their children within it.

His son was clearly in charge, standing before the two young half-bloods that had not yet heard what exactly was happening, and looking pale and more than a little scared as they backs of their respective hands, as his son's lover, at least that was what The Lord of the Seas believed (the way they acted together left little room for alternative interpretation), interjected here and there in order to keep them calm.

His divine eyes noticed the slight curls of smoke as they rose from beneath the feet of the agitated elfin featured boy, the Hephaestus child if he remembered correctly, one that inherited his gift for pyrokinesis.

For a given value of calm, anyway.

"The kid needs ter learn ter calm down," grunted his nephew, as he eyed his elfin son critically, noticing the rise in his power and the curls of smoke.

Poseidon agreed heartily. The rare few of the smith god's children that inherited that particular trait that created disaster, the last one being the instigator of the Great Fire of London. They didn't need the Great Fire of New York to be added to the list.

"Alright," he heard his own son say a little louder, drawing his attention back to Perseus with the rest of the Council present, minus Apollo who had his duties to attend with the Sun, though Poseidon would wager an acorn to an oak that the childish Lord of the Sun was watching the proceedings intently from his chariot, "as much as I hate to hurry things along, especially considering how dangerous this type of thing can be, we are all on a deadline, marching to a schedule made by who knows who, who knows when, so time is of the essence."

Saying that, his son then crouched, placing his hand flat on the ground. His brow furrowed as if in concentration, and then Poseidon felt it. A pressure, a presence, in the air. His son's half-blood scent suddenly grew stronger as he no doubt delved into whatever abilities he had.

"Burst. Circle. Four," his son muttered, seeming to be trying to press his hand deeper into the earth.

Multiple tendrils of green energy seemed to burst from his son's grounded hand, racing along the ground and carving lines into it in it's wake.

Many of his siblings and niece and nephews all started along with himself. This was not something they had encountered, at least not for a very long time, and not from his son.

Magic. Not quite like Hecate's and those of her kin, but mortal magic, completely removed from the Mist and thus did not have it's power and aid. To think that his son had such abilities deep within him...

Poseidon watched as the children down on the floor all leapt back as the energy carved itself into the earth, creating patterns that were alien to the god but obviously had some meaning. He raised an eyebrow in thought as he looked a little harder.

Ah. His son wasn't just creating a single spell circle, if that was the correct terminology, he hadn't really delved into the Deeper Secrets of magic, watching over the oceans chewed into his time rather heavily, leaving him little room to study. He was creating four identical circles. Probably the Servant (and he still had trouble believing that such entities like those within the Throne of Heroes existed. It made him wonder how many more of his sons had made it there.) summoning circle unless he missed his guess.

"Interesting," he heard his sister, the Queen of Olympus, muse, making the rest of the Council look at her askance. It was not like her to say something of that nature about a half-blood, her distaste for them, especially those sired by her wandering husband, was legendary, "the boy used simple Alteration to imprint the design of a Ritual Circle into the ground, thus eliminating the need to draw it out and risking a mistake. Repeatedly and simultaneously," she tapped her chin thoughtfully as she analysed the efforts of his son, "Quite impressive."

Many of the Council nodded in agreement, accepting her analysis. Some of them may not have been able to immediately identify what his son had done, Poseidon being sadly among them, but they knew enough magic to understand what Hera, someone who had focused on her magic in order to fight in the original Titanomachy and had kept up her skills in that arena, had said and agreed. It was a unique use of the rather simple spell, one that was barely above a starting Initiate's if he remembered, but it was one that would have required a decent amount of skill, needing to keep in mind every detail of the circles and where they would be placed. A single wrong stroke, a misremembered or forgotten piece of the circle, and if it was used, especially considering what the circle was supposedly designed to do...

Well, let's just say Cthulu may not just be an idle thought and the creation of silly mortal imagination.

"What the Hell?" the child of Aphrodite, a beautiful, which was a given considering who her mother was, young lady of obvious Native American descent by the name of Piper McLean (whose last name rang a bell for some reason, something his wife had said.) freaked, looking at the resulting effect with wide kaleidoscopic eyes. It seemed she was unused the odd, weird, wonderful and sometimes down right terrifying things that happened behind the Veil of Mist.

Must be a new comer.

"Each of you take a position at one of the circles," his son hastily instructed, striding towards his own. He wasn't wasting any time. "Quickly," he barked at the children of the Forge and Love, Annabeth Chase already having already moved to one, kneeling beside it as his son was already doing.

They were quick to move, the soft, dark, rumble in his son's voice spurring them on.

"Now, place your hand in the circle," Perseus instructed, demonstrating with his own, "except for you, Annabeth," he quickly said, halting the Owl Head's spawn, "you will need to cut your palm, deep enough to draw blood, and then place it in the circle."

Poseidon winced slightly as Mother and Daughter's sharp grey eyes turned steely as they looked at his son. They wanted an explanation and they would get it, one way or another, even at the expense of his son's health.

He wasn't stupid enough to get between them when they were like that, he liked his balls where they were, thank you very much. He had learned the hard way that there were certain buttons on his rival that you **_did not push._**

The fishing industry had taken a decided down turn for about a decade when he had last stepped over that line. His..._virility_, or lack thereof in that time...being linked to fish stocks for some reason.

His son was intelligent to see which way the wind was blowing and was quick to offer an explanation.

"Your abilities are different from the rest of us," he quickly explained, "you have no physical expression of your half-blood gifts, unlike myself with my magic and hydrokinetic abilities, Leo and his flames and Piper with her charmspeak. Each of those can act as a medium to carry the magic inherent in the abilities in order to fuel the ritual. As you don't have that particular advantage, you need something more basic, more primal, to act as a medium."

Poseidon saw his youngest sister and eldest brother nod in understanding, his grey eyed rival not far behind as her eyes widened in realisation. He could understand what his son was saying, it was one of the few sticking points that he managed hold over Athena. Her sons and daughters were good fighters, strategists and scholars, he would give them that, but they generally lacked some of the outwardly expressed specialised abilities that other half-bloods had. Instead, their gifts were focused inward, in the mind primarily, but also coursing through their...

"My blood," Annabeth said in realisation, "the very substance of life. It has ichor within it, the blood of the gods and their magic."

Perseus nodded in agreement before looking at them all piercingly, "What you each need to do is use your half-blood gifts as you chant the words I give you with your hand in the circle," he cocked an eyebrow at the two new comers, "Can you each do that?"

The pair looked at each other uncertainly, hesitantly, "I should be able to," said young Piper softly, shifting on her feet, frowning almost cutely, "I haven't really practiced with it, but I have used charmspeak unconsciously in the past," she frowned deeper, "it's turning it off that is the problem."

As he saw the Lady of Dove's rather wicked grin at her daughter's statement, Poseidon noted to himself to be careful around that young lady.

Percy merely nodded and turned to a rather apprehensive Leo Valdez, "and what about you?" He asked.

The lad seemed to fight with himself for a bit, his face a study in contrasts. He was obviously very very unwilling to use his flames, though the Sea God was unsure why, but knew that he would have to in order to fulfil this task, one that would only help this Camp that had offered him a real place to belong.

In the end, duty won.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said with an blatantly fake laugh, "just have the extinguishers ready would you?"

Poseidon had a feeling the boy wasn't joking.

"Alright," Perseus nodded, taking a knee, "when your ready, draw on your power and repeat after me."

Poseidon and the rest all leaned forward in anticipation. This is what they had all come here for. The main event. Time to see what happens.

A slash of her dagger and Annabeth was swiftly placing a bleeding palm in the circle.

Piper was taking deep breaths, warming up her voice.

The air around Leo began to waver, heat exuding from his form, but no flames as yet.

Perseus looked at them all, before glancing up at the Council, locking eyes with each of them in turn, and nodding sharply and glowing a vivid green, even as he reached into his shirt with his unoccupied hand and drawing out a small golden object, that looked something like an arrow head and placing it in the very centre.

Poseidon looked carefully at the object, trying to identify it, Where it had come from, what it represented. It exuded a fair bit of power, he could feel that easily enough, and a part of it's power felt similar to his own, like water, but it was still very much alien to him. Though, he could swear he had encountered energy similar to this before, but wasn't sure where.

He relaxed slightly. It was of no moment right now, he would find out soon enough.

"Here we go," whispered Hermes, clutching his Caduceus firmly, the serpents silence for once, "hold on to your butts."

Perseus' voice was powerful, resounding throughout the Amphitheatre like thunder.

**"I command thee..,**" Percy recited, swiftly echoed by the others.

**"Thou shalt come forth to my side;  
Thy sword shalt control my fate.**"

Poseidon lifted an eyebrow. It seemed partnership was a big thing in this ritual.

**"Abiding by the Holy Grail's haven,  
If thou accedest to this will and reason**,"

Poseidon saw Ares practically bouncing in his seat, almost salivating at seeing new and powerful warriors. Fool. The Lord of the Seas was more concerned by those last two lines. To him, they sounded rather ominous. A glance at both his brothers showed that they felt the same.

Power was now heavy in the air, making it feel it almost stifling. Something was beginning to answer this call. The Question was; What?

**"Then answer me,  
The oath set forth here,  
I am the embodiment of good in the eternal world,  
I am the disposer of evil in the eternal world."**

The words were coming faster now, his son's eagerness could clearly be seen, but he did not neglect the others, holding himself back and controlling himself to ensure that this ritual was performed properly.

The very air around them was beginning to distort, such was the amount of power gathering, but it seemed that none of the four were even aware of anything but the ritual.

**"Open the Gate. Shut(fill). Shut(fill). Shut(fill). Shut(fill). Shut(fill).  
Thee, the seven heavens that bear the great trinity,  
Come forth from the circle of constraint..."**

The power seemed to reach a crescendo, each of the circles lighting up like a solar flare on the Fourth of July.

It was time.

**"... O Guardian of the balance**!" Perseus declared, almost triumphantly, and echoed by the others.

Then power roared, the veil of energy exploding outward in a great flash of light, blinding many who were watching

Curses and yells were flung around heavily, the Council's divine vision hindering rather helping them at this point in time. Their sharper eyes taking longer to heal. Thankfully, as Gods, they healed much quicker than any mortal, divine heritage or not.

By the time they were back to normal, bare moments (though uncomfortable ones) had passed, and what greeted their returned sight was breath taking.

In front of each of the half-bloods below, stood beings of power.

That was honestly the only way Poseidon could describe them. The presence they exuded, the power they emitted and even the way they stood, completely at ease and yet ready to explode into action at a moment's notice.

"Mother Rhea," the Big Three breathed in unison, the others not far behind with their own oaths of shock, surprise and awe.

So these were Servants. Copies of a great Hero. The King of the Sea smiled slightly, satisfied. They were adequate enough. The strength he felt from each of them was enough that he felt at ease enough to let them take his son's protection in their hands.

He would need it in the coming struggle.

He blinked as his eyes scanned over the figures. Surprisingly enough, he recognised one of them.

* * *

An older man, his hair and close cropped beard both grey, laid his eyes upon a crouching and wide-eyed Annabeth, grey eyes meeting grey eyes. Dressed in traditional Ancient Greek chiton and sandals, he smiled softly, tilting his head slightly as he did, slightly bearing a mark on his neck that Annabeth would never forget.

"In accordance with the summoning, I, Servant Caster of Red, have come forth," his smile grew wider as she began to recover her faculties, "I ask of you; are you my Master?"

Still not fully recovered, all Annabeth could do was stare at the figure of someone she had seen die. A mentor to her that had passed on. One word escaped her mouth, such was her shock.

"Daedalus?"

* * *

Perseus ignored everything around him, focusing only on the figure that stood before him, his heart in his dry mouth.

He ignored the bronze skinned giant that towered over a slightly intimidated Leo.

He ignored the reunion of brother and sister with Annabeth, both in deep discussion.

He ignored the provocatively dressed woman as she smirked at a startled Piper.

It had worked.

The same silver armour, the same face, the same eyes, the same weapon. He had managed to summon who he wanted, his catalyst was enough to influence the summoning.

Now it was time to see if his theory, his hope, had borne fruit.

"I thank you for coming forth, Bhishma Pitmaha, Silver Prince of Oaths," he said, almost choking on his words, "I am your...master, Perseus Jackson," he stumbled over referring himself by such a title to someone who was a friend, a brother, a teacher or even a _father_, to him, "it will be an honour to fight at your side."

His Servant was silent, even as sea green kept themselves locked on the silver clad Archer. Reaching down, the Servant plucked up the golden arrowhead, looking at it carefully.

Then he spoke, and Perseus could do nothing but freeze.

"Golden Life is a Noble Phantasm that changes with every experience I have. A record of my life turned into raw unadulterated power. After all we had been through, everything that we have done, do you truly think that what we did would not be inscribed on my very heart?"

Disbelieving and hopeful green met calm and joyous silver.

It had worked.

Percy stumbled to his feet, still ignoring the crowd now gathering around him, both divine and mortal and otherwise, and shakily reached out with his hand towards his beloved friend and brother in arms.

This was _his_ Bhishma.

Hand met hand in a warrior's clasp before this pair drew themselves into an embrace.

Forgetting what was to come, what was happening at this very moment, they simply rejoiced at be reunited, tears streaming down their faces.

A bond of brothers was reborn.

Let the Sons of Earth beware.

* * *

Class: Archer of Red  
Name: Bhishma Pitamaha  
Title: Oathbound Silver Prince  
Master: Perseus Jackson (Proper Summoning)

Stats:  
STR B  
AGL B+  
END A+  
MAG B+  
LCK D  
NP A+++

Class Skills:

Independent Action: B+  
Capable of remaining in the world for five days without an established contract. Also capable of living on after a extensive damage to the spiritual core. Note that it's rank should be higher but due to portions of his legend it is brought down.

Magic Resistance: A  
Cancel spells of A-Rank or below. In practice, the Servant is untouchable to modern magi, so it would not be an exaggeration to title the Servant a "Magus Killer".

Personal Skills:

Divinity: A  
Originally he was a deity forced to reincarnate and was reborn as the child of Ganga, a personification/deity of the sacred Ganges River, and when he died, returned to being a deity. Around water he gains a noticeable boost in power. Due to the link with his master, his attributes are all increased.

Astras: A  
A form of Divine spell craft used by many of the heroes in Hindu epics, often used in conjunction with a projectile weapon, most often a bow and arrow. As a boon earlier in his life, Archer was given knowledge of all of these.

Clairvoyance: B  
Blessed by his teacher within Divine vision. Eyes became suited for long range combat, allowing projectiles to be accurate within ten kilometres. Also able to see through any illusion and see the true form of any object, thus Shapeshifting deception is impossible.

Military Tactics: B  
Lead the an army in the greatest war in Hindu belief for ten of the fourteen days, creating formations seen as impenetrable, and was seen as one of the best commanders.

Charisma: B  
Suitable for a King of a country, even if he had never became one.

Class: Caster of Red  
Name: Daedalus  
Title: The Crafter of Life  
Master: Annabeth Chase

Stats:  
STR D  
AGL C  
END B+  
MAG A+  
LCK B  
NP A++

Class Skills

Territory Creation: A  
A Temple is able to be built.

Item Construction: B  
Many things can be made by Caster, though he is limited by the materials of the era.

Personal Skills

Expert of Many Specialisations: A+  
As a result of living in hiding for millennia, there is little that he is not capable of doing or has knowledge of.

Divinity: C  
He is a demi-god child of Athena. However, this is not known to the world at large and the Skill is only possible through the summoners own knowledge of Caster. In addition, he did not have the best of relationships with the Gods. This thus lowers the level of the skill.


	4. Chapter 4

Olympus Apocrypha

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Fate Stay Night or Fate Apocrypha

AN: I'm glad everyone enjoyed my last chapter. This chapter will be a longer one, as I plan to wind up a small talk with the gods, an introduction to the other two currently summoned, travels to Rome and the summoning there. Hopefully I can pull this off well enough.

Also, just for a challenge. The scenes Annabeth saw in her mind from Percy in the last chapter showed her glimpses of the Servants in that war. I would like for everyone who wants to, to have a stab at guessing all of them. In return, you will get a cyber cookie from me and bragging rights.

Good luck and enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Chapter 4

Athena frowned as the Sea Spawn seemed to hug the stuffing out of the distinguished elderly male he had summoned, tears streaming from both of their eyes.

The last two days, this one included, had been full of revelations. Many of them being both unwelcome and ominous to say the least.

Thrones of dead heroes ascending to a pseudo-god. Death tournaments for a corrupted prize capable of rewriting history or make the world do the Macarena that involved said dead heroes. A re-emergence of said corrupted prize that was supposedly destroyed. A new death tournament that her favoured daughter was now inevitably involved in. A new prophecy referencing the 'Seven Heroes' prophecy that damned Romans held so dear to their blackened hearts.

All of which could be traced to the Sea Spawn, Percy Jackson, who had the temerity to date her own daughter.

As if that wasn't enough, the Sea Spawn had shown that her understanding of him was very wide of the mark. Granted this was due to psychological shifts brought upon by repressed memories being returned to him, one she didn't know he had and thus could not use to determine his true nature, but it still grated on the Goddess of Wisdom, someone who was known to be able to pierce even the most powerful of facades in order to see the truth within, that she had misjudged the brash boy.

He was far more powerful, stronger, knowledgable and perceptive than she had thought. She saw how he had dealt with the intruder, the Caster of Black. She would deny it, even to herself, but a part of her was wary of the boy now. The solidity of the fact that he was only a half-blood, albeit a powerful one, and she a goddess and was thus unassailable to him had been shaken. Before he had been powerful, able to match the god of war for a time, even if Ares had held back from using his full power.

Now though, his power had grown, or was perhaps restored, to even higher levels. Making him a threat in the pure power and ability he had. The only things that stopped her from crafting a way to neutralise him, a just in case measure, was the powerful bond he had with her daughter and the fact that he had never turned on Olympus.

She silently blessed his Fatal Flaw.

Still, that didn't she would keep watching. It might be more difficult, a brief sense of the overall state of his mind, the way they thought rather than the memories, which she wasn't able to access (trying had only resulted in a crushing migraine that she had barely been able to hide), revealed that his mind was more hardened, colder, befitting of an experienced warrior or commander, but she could work around it if need be.

But that would be for another time. As much as disliked it, hated it in fact, now was not the time for squabbles. A prophecy was issued and the back story of it was frightening, even to her. She would do what was needed to be done...

Even if it meant working with those blighted **_Romans_**.

She was drawn from her musings as her name was called in a voice that gave her pleasure. That of her daughter, Annabeth's.

"Yes, Annabeth?" She asked as she turned to her, before abruptly freezing in shock.

Solemn grey met identical shocked ones.

"It is...good," the grey haired man, a legacy of her past that she thought she would never see again, "to see you once more, Mo- Lady Athena," the man, the Servant coughed slightly as he corrected himself, no doubt remembering the last time they had exchanged words, before giving a small bow out of respect.

"Daedalus," she breathed softly in shock, "how did you-?" Her head spun slightly as she tried to reconcile what she knew of her wayward offspring.

Daedalus merely smiled slightly, "My legend had been around for quite some time," he said gently, reminding the mother of happier days and times with her son, before Minos, before Icarus.

Before Perdix and the punishment she had given him.

"My spirit was plucked for the Throne as soon as I passed on," the elderly craftsman smirked slightly, "I was worried of what awaited me after I passed but it seems that things all worked out," he frowned slightly, looking thoughtful, an expression that the Goddess had seen on his face many a time, or even seen in her own mirror more than a few times, "though I would like to see what Myself has done in the Underworld, maybe even throw a few ideas his way."

Athena didn't know how to react. The thought of this Daedalus, a spirit of great power that she could sense, talking with his own original self, an architect for the Underworld under her uncle's employ, was almost ludicrous at best and had her straining her mind trying to fit this paradox in a way she could properly understand it.

She put it off as a bad job and got down to business, focusing on the present predicament that was facing the Olympians and those that depended on them.

"I must admit," she said slowly, gathering her wits once more, "I am surprised to see you once more."

An understatement of the century. Her feelings towards her offspring were complex and convoluted. In his time, he had been a favoured child of hers, having her blessing and honours, but had then become one she dared not look upon, a grave disappointment and murderer, that she had personally punished, marking him forevermore. Time had then passed, his managing to sneak away, hiding himself from those who sought to use him, from those who sought to punish him, running and hiding from even death itself. A fact that she knew had vexed that fool Minos heavily, and even her pale faced uncle, to a degree.

Then he had re-emerged, changed and bound in body of an automaton. Desperate.

He had thrown in with the Titans for a time, granting them Ariadne's string in order to navigate his greatest work, and prison, beneath the earth, until they had shown their true colours, betraying the aged inventor. All she could do was watch, stony faced, as her child, one that was both loved and despised, burn away in a prison of his own design, before turning away, heart sick and confused.

The Battle of the Labyrinth came then, monsters and half-bloods charging from the entrance of the Labyrinth in order to assail the Camp. Fiend and friend both fell as the two sides clashed. The Camp fought valiantly, every inch the enemy gained was dearly bought. But numbers began to tell, for all of the Camper's bravery and strength, they were clearly outnumbered, and their own numbers began to dwindle, falling to fatigue and foe alike, even as the enemy kept streaming in, an endless tide of malevolence.

Then her son came, the one she had punished, the jealous and fearful, sword drawn and in the company of Briares, an ancient being that was before the Gods, and fought at the Camper's side.

Many were the heroic feats that were seen in this battle. The son of Hades nigh killing himself to summon the dead in such numbers to aid the camp, Briares crushing his former tormented under a mountain of stone, the young satyr, Grover Underwood, unleashing a Panic, the vaunted gift of Pan himself, that set the enemy to running back the way they came, fleeing into the darkness from which they had emerged.

But it was her son's act that had her confused, questioning what she had thought she had known about her son. He willingly sacrificed himself, giving up his own extended life, willing to face the judgements that would come after, to ensure that the Labyrinth, his greatest creation and work, closed, collapsed and could no longer be used by the Titan King's forces.

It was not what the old Daedalus, her beloved son, would have done.

It was not what the grief filled Daedalus, murderer and coward, would have done.

This was a new Daedalus, tired but determined, seeking redemption and facing the consequences of his actions. This was one she didn't know, his actions alien to her understanding of him.

And she couldn't be prouder.

She had never voiced it, not exactly willing to set foot in her Uncle's realm, but with that one act, that single choice of unselfishness, he had earned her forgiveness.

And her love.

Still, she had not expected to meet her aged son again, at least not in the realm of the living.

Even less as a spirit from the Throne of Heroes.

She smiled softly at her son, her eyes saying what her tongue could not. _I forgive you. My son._

Similar grey eyes widened, becoming slightly watery as he bowed his head again. _Thank you. Mother._

A commotion rose, making the small family reunion break up. Athena noticed as the rest of the Council, their children and the summoned beings all began to gather around a certain pair. Her eyes narrowed.

The Sea Spawn was clasped into a tight embrace with what seemed to be his Servant, a silvery haired man with silver armour and a bow strapped to his back. Tears falling heavily from both their cheeks.

Time for stage two then.

"Come," the Goddess gestured to her children, "it seems that introductions and plans need to be made.

She set off briskly, her offspring not a step behind.

* * *

Poseidon couldn't help but feel some consternation as he saw his son seem to try and hug, in a manly way, the stuffing out of the Servant he had summoned.

Percy was his son, one he loved dearly. Many of his choices, the most noted being the decision to aid Olympus and leave Atlantis almost completely undefended, involving his son had him deciding to choose to side with that love rather than what he would have chosen if his son was not involved. The debacle with Bessy, and he still couldn't believe his son had named the Ophiotaurus that, a monster that held the power to destroy Olympus within it's body, that, was one. Generally, he would have erred on the side of caution, of prudence, and voted for it's death, a ruler's decision. Unless your enemy was Hades, a dead enemy is safe one after all.

He had sacrificed a fair bit, offered much. Yet this being was able to bring his son to joyous tears with just his appearance, something that he was unable to do with his son.

Poseidon couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

The embrace ended, each of them pulling away from each to stare in the respective other's eyes.

"You have grown since the last I saw you, Master," the silver clad Servant said softly, looking Perseus up and down, his weathered hands clasped on his son's shoulders, "you are stronger, more powerful," he continued in approval, silvery eyes speculative, as if judging his son and finding him good.

Perseus laughed joyously, full of mirth.

"How could I not?" his son continued chuckling, pride in his eyes as he accepted his Servant's comment, "I was taught by the man who defeated Parashurama, a warrior who was without equal until you set foot on the battlefield, fighting your guru for twenty three days. A man who could not die, except by his own will. A warrior without peer," his chuckling halted as he frowned heavily, "though I will admit that your teachings were lost to me for years, along with the various skills and abilities you imparted to me, only returning with my memories less than a year ago."

The calm face, with a deep tan that seemed to a mix of red and black, of the Servant frowned, "So I saw," he said lowly. Poseidon could help but feel that if this Servant were any other man, palpable anger and rage would have filled the air. The fact that this being had only frowned was all the more chilling for it. This was a man who had mastered his anger, who would not be swayed into decisions by his emotions. Every step he made, every scheme he crafted, every time he swung a weapon or loosed an arrow, would be carefully controlled, a part of an unknown plan that would bring defeat to the enemy.

Those types of men, rare as they are, were the most dangerous. In battle, they were an absolute nightmare to face.

And his son had summoned such a man. Twice.

"I wish we could have met again under better circumstances," Perseus said, his head bowed.

"It is not your fault, Master," insisted the warrior, his face taking a stern cast, similar to what Poseidon had seen Chiron take a few times over the years, "blame not yourself. The fault lies with the one who has created this abomination to the dharma," the face softened but was still unyielding and serious, "we tried our best to destroy the foul vessel. It should have been destroyed. It was destroyed. We did our duty, it just seems as though something has interfered."

"The 'Sons of Earth'," Perseus growled, his eyes lighting up in angered understanding.

_Thwack!_

Poseidon made an aborted move as his son's head was given a firm hit, not enough to injure, but in chastisement, by the frowning silver clad warrior, who was subtly shaking out his hand, as if it pained him, making Poseidon smirk slightly as he observed them.

This Servant, who ever he was, hadn't known that his son had bathed in the Styx

"Calm yourself," he said with a small scowl, "anger will gain you nothing and solve nothing. Only through calm and understanding, with belief in righteousness, will victory come about. Do you not remember what I taught you?"

Perseus winced, as if the stern words were a harsh blow, and ducked his head in apology.

Poseidon couldn't help but frown deeper, an emerald beast in his chest want to surge forth. The archer, judging by the bow on his back, was acting far too familiar, like family, like a _father_, to his son for his peace of mind.

"Battle plans can wait for now," Perseus grunted slightly, his face now lacking the joy he had upon seeing his Servant, hardening to that of a soldier, a warrior, straightening back up and running a hand across his hair, "we need to do some introductions and get our marching orders and intel."

"By all means," the Servant said, now looking around, as if noticing the gathered crowd for the first time.

Percy looked to the other half-bloods, and the Servants they had summoned, his critical eyes alighting on the one Poseidon himself recognised, "Daedalus," his son said, surprised, before smiling slightly and shaking his head ruefully when he looked at the Athena spawn, "I should have known you would have summoned the Crafter of Life," he continued in amusement even as he looked slightly thoughtful, "the blood you used must have acted as a catalyst," his eyes turned back to a softly smiling inventor, "I take it you were summoned as Caster?"

Poseidon was slightly confused at the terminology used. 'Summoned as Caster'? 'Crafter of Life'?

"It is the only class that I qualify for," the creator of the Labyrinth said with a nod.

Poseidon was more than confused. There was subtext here that he was missing entirely. Considering that this involved his son, this vexed him.

"True," his son agreed, before he looked at all of the summoners, "alright, the summoning was successful. That's the easy part done. The next is going to be far more difficult," he looked at the Servants, meeting their eyes, "I am unsure of what information the Grail has supplied all of you, but I am about to break protocol to show a measure of trust," as if understanding what his son was about to do, the Silver warrior stepped up to his son's side, "my name is Perseus Jackson, master of the Archer of Red, Bhishma Pitamaha."

That got a reaction out of the Servants, minus the now identified Bhishma, making them flinch in shock.

"Perseus," Daedalus said, sounding pained, "what are you-?" His imploring question was halted by an interruption.

"You revealed your own Servant's name, boy," rumbled the Servant at the side of the Hispanic child of Hephaestus, " and revealed another's before that. Under what madness have you done this?"

Poseidon eyed the speaker. He was a massive being, well and truly over seven feet tall and built solid. Dark of hair, separated into seven locks, and eye, narrowed in suspicion, his deeply tanned skin showed more in common with those of Middle Eastern descent than anything else. Dressed in a simple tunic and leggings, and old fashioned fur boots that were at odds with his imposing height. He bore no weapons and had only a set of leather bracers on his forearms as anything resembling defensive armaments. Poseidon almost wanted to say that this being was no warrior, no fighter, but his aura stopped him.

There was a subtle presence of power about him, as if it was hidden just beneath the surface, waiting to break out.

Poseidon had the feeling he didn't want to be in the area when it emerged.

A sultry chuckle, something that made the God of the Sea's libido want to sit up and take notice, was heard from the female Servant next to the daughter of Aphrodite, "My, my," the woman giggled, "so typical of a man," she smirked, "facing everything head on, bashing their hard heads against a rock wall, without the wit to go around or climb over it."

The woman's smirk deepened as many of the males looked at her in anger, which swiftly turned to something between lust and embarrassment. She was a statuesque woman, appearing between her twenties and thirties. In appearance, she was absolutely perfect. The perfect curves, the perfect features, everything about her was seductive. Her outfit would have seemed more at home in a strip club, a tight black leather corset that barely covered her nipples, with a plunging line down the front of it to just below her navel, creating a cleavage without compare. Barefoot but wearing purple, ruffled anklets. A long pair of red opera gloves covered her arms. Her black panties, small as they were, were almost see through, teasing the males, and some females, who looked upon. Raven hair and crimson eyes topped with a loose crimson shawl completed the look.

Needless to say, all of the males were distracted, himself included, by her appearance, the blood in their veins running south. The females, on the other hand, present wavered between discomfort (Piper McLean), disgust (Artemis, Athena and Hera), a wide grin (Aphrodite) and disapproval (Hestia and Demeter).

All of them, except his son and Bhishma.

"Circumstances are different, changed, from the previous war," his son said, addressing the other three Servants, "the Fates have weaved a prophecy in regards to this War."

That had the three Servants stiffening, eyes alight.

"They dare," the woman hissed/growled, sounding much more malevolent than seductive at that moment, a weight pressing down on everyone as the air grew heavier. For a flicker of time, Poseidon thought he saw the image of a skull appear over face and saw her shadow writhe and twist, seeming to form a great beast with many heads, before her normal visage reasserted itself.

"Wonderful," Daedalus groaned, "just wonderful," his voice was bitter. Poseidon couldn't blame him, prophecies were never good news. Not to mention the inventor had actually _died_ as a result of one.

The massive one merely growled lowly, crossing his arms. However, around him, the air seemed to heat up as a result of his anger. The grass he stood on wilting and browning as if exposed to high heat.

Poseidon tensed slightly, ready to fight, as did the rest of the gods present. The two angry Servants before him were gathering their power in anger, he could feel that in the marrow of his bones. Unless they could control themselves, someone was going to make a stupid move and an all out brawl was going to take place.

With the sheer power both sides would have, it was almost guaranteed that the Camp wouldn't be there anymore before the dust settled.

It was then that Percy's Servant stepped forward, "Calm yourselves," Bhishma practically demanded, his eyes calm, but the calm of steel blade ready to strike, "we mean no harm. We only wish to inform you of the current predicament we all find ourselves in, not to open hostilities with you."

These words were said with a firmness, an expectation that they would stand down. Oddly enough, Poseidon could also feel himself begin to calm, his muscles relaxing from their previously tense state as he listened to the Archer's persuasive words.

The tall one also seemed to relax, the air cooling down around to normal temperatures.

The woman, however, didn't seem to relax at all, but still quieted herself in order to listen to the next words spoken.

"I understand your discomfort, residents of the Throne," Perseus said calmly, quietly and with a degree of decorum that The Lord of the Seas didn't know his son had, "I, too, have been subjected to a prophecy, more than one in fact, and they were all hellish and painful, whether it was in mind, body or spirit."

Poseidon winced. His son was quite correct. The various prophecies he had been involved in had not ended well. Positively maybe as the goal was achieved, but not well. A betrayal of friendship when he retrieved Zeus' Master Bolt, losing comrades and friends in the Quest for Artemis and The Labyrinth, as well as the Great Prophecy and the Battle of Manhattan.

Prophecies were never the best.

"But however we fight it," he continued, "however we struggle, however much we despise it with all of our being, in the end, it will come about," tired green eyes locked with a set of suspicious crimson and grim dark blue, "the best we can do, the _only_ thing we can do, is meet it when it comes," he stood tall then, seeming to loom over the two he was addressing despite his shorter stature compared to the bronze skinned giant, "so I ask, with all the respect I have for you," his eyes moved to the tall man, "Berserker," and then to the woman, "Assassin," his eyes then focused on the two as whole again, "that we all work together. For the first time in the Grail War's history, the last if I have any say, no longer is it necessary to guard yourselves from betrayal, to defend yourself from the enemy that besets you on all sides. This time, you will have comrades at your side, ones that halt the sword to your back as you block the arrow aiming for them," his eyes were now full of a green fire, "but this bond, these ties, can only be actualised through trust. I have given you mine, revealing the name of one I call comrade and friend," his eyes softened, as did his fierce voice, but each still held the iron determination that he was known, "in order to safe guard your Master, your partner, a comrade in arms... in order to face the enemy that, even now, knocks at our gates... in order to see that this world, the one that once strode upon, were born upon, in life... I humbly ask that you do the same," his eyes dimmed as looked deeper into the two Servants eyes, "Please."

There was nothing but silence as Perseus' speech ended.

Poseidon was frozen in shock, awe and pride at his son's speech. The sheer amount of emotion he had placed in every word, the amount of belief, of assurance that flowed off him. It was inspiring.

He had no idea that his son could be so eloquent.

It also seemed to have worked.

The giant one looked down at the Hispanic teen that was his Master, "what do you think, Master?" he asked, sounding like a mountain falling as he did so despite the innocuous and simple question.

The boy, to his credit, answered without any hesitation, "Go for it, Big Guy," he said with a expression that was oddly both a grin and a frown, "Pops gave me a dream last night about the whole mess," he jerked a thumb towards the patient Perseus, "he's already been around the block in regards to this, so I say we listen. Besides," he rubbed his head sheepishly, "some of this stuff is way beyond my pay grade," then he frowned, "and don't call me 'Master'," he objected belatedly, "the names Leo. Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus."

The giant smiled slightly, amused at the small, to him, boy's antics, "Very well," the massive being rumbled, "since the cub insists, I will do so," he smirked at the now pouting son of Hephaestus, before he drew himself to his full height, "summoned as Berserker of Red, Samson the Nazarite, the Wrathbringer of God."

Poseidon felt his eyes bulge slightly, even as others choked and spluttered. _That_ was a name he knew well, unlike his son's own Servant, much to his regret despite him combing through a copy of the _Mahabharata_ he had floating around in his palace back at Atlantis, though he knew the name in passing. With the spread of the Bible and the stories it told in Western culture, it was hard not to absorb knowledge of some of the tales that were within it by simple exposure, even if they were Greek. The story of Samson and Delilah was quite well known among them.

Though still unsure of what the Berserker part meant, if Heroic Spirits were anything like other classes of divine beings, then they got stronger through a concentration of belief or worship. And there were a great many mortals that believed in the Bible.

_That was one down_, Poseidon thought, _now what about the other?_

The sultry woman stared at his son as if he had never seem him before, as though he was completely alien. Her crimson eyes were wide, as though shocked.

"You truly believe those words," she whispered, Poseidon might have dared say even croaked were it not for the seeming inborn huskiness to it, in wonder. She sounded as though Percy had just declared that the sky was pink with green polka dots, completely flummoxed, "you would truly do that."

Poseidon frowned slightly, looking at the woman with a critical eye. He ignored the dress and the sultry, seductive, way she held herself and truly _looked_.

The way she tried to keep an eye on every male there, the way her hands wandered close to her summoner, ready to grab her at a moments notice and she kept her centre of gravity low, ready to leap away or dodge, while disguising it as a way to flaunt her feminine charms.

He had seen such behaviour before, in ancient times, in olden times and in modern times.

This was a woman that had been hurt, again and again, by those of a male gender, often having suffered that worst fate a man could visit upon a woman. She was also a survivor, one that would use anything she had to her advantage ruthlessly, whether it be her mind, her body or another's naivety. She was a femme fatale without the dressing up Hollywood usually did to soften the stories of such women.

Sadly fitting for one that his son had called 'Assassin'.

It also explained her behaviour and reaction to his son's speech. Women like that generally aren't swayed by words, used to poisonous pretty words filled with empty promises, but also know that they need to understand their 'target' making them exceptional at reading others. They had to be in order to survive.

They were lied to, used and thrown away when they no longer served any purpose.

His son had advocated trust, truth and loyalty to the end, taking the first step by revealing his own Servant's name.

His son was sincere in his words.

And the woman knew that.

It was probably the first time she had ever met a man that actually meant what he said and said what he meant.

No doubt her world view took a sharp turn to the left.

"In a heartbeat," responded Percy immediately.

Still shocked, the woman, confused and unfocused, looked down at her summoner. Kaleidoscope met crimson.

Piper seemed to see something in those eyes, an unasked question that only she knew the wording of. The teen nodded firmly.

The woman turned back to Perseus. The seductive confidence she had abruptly returning as she played her role as the playful flirt to the hilt. There was a difference to it though, as if her smoky eyes were no longer veiled by suspicion and calculation. There was a glimmer of trust there, fragile and brittle. She was going against her own creed, 'trust no one', and gambling her fate on the member of a gender she no doubt despised.

She would only grant one chance, give her trust only once. If it was broken, if she was betrayed...

Well, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'

Poseidon hoped his son knew that.

"Well handsome," she purred wickedly, her crimson eyes glinting, as she sensually bowed deeply, deliberately exposing her cleavage more she already did, "you have the honour of standing before Lilith, the Night Mother, summoned as the Assassin of Red," her eyes gleamed wickedly as reactions to her name flowed through the crowd, her own summoner staring at her with mouth agape, "please treat me kindly."

Poseidon just knew that this woman was going to be trouble.

* * *

"I still think it looks like a pile of deer's droppings."

This comment floated freely to the ears of the young half-bloods and their Servants as they stood before the pile of stone and rubble named 'Zeus' Fist'.

"The cub speaks the truth," Berserker rumbled, affirming his summoner's statement with a small smirk, "One has to wonder upon your King's insistence on keeping the older name," the smirk widened, "Perhaps there is something that your King wishes to tell us?"

The Hispanic boy flushed and glared lightly up at his partner, "Dude, quit with the 'cub' remarks already. It's getting old. Fast," the pyrokinetic couldn't help but pout.

The Wrathbringer smiled down at the youth, amused, "But you are so tiny," the Servant teased, placing a ham sized hand on his summoner's head, as if to emphasise the lack of height compared to the mammoth man himself.

"Everything is tiny to you, you great brute," snidely spoke Assassin, her crimson eyes showing annoyance at the muscular devotee to YAHWEH. Her eyes then turned sly, narrowing as she smirked, looking like a fox in all it's craftiness, "perhaps your height and might is a compensation for your... _Shortcomings_." Her smirked broadened as she cocked an eyebrow at the Nazarite.

Even the most naive of fools couldn't the double entendre.

Berserker growled, flexing his hands as if he wanted to revenge that insult and tear the woman, one seen as a fount of evil in his eyes, apart, "Have a care with your words, harlot," he spat, the air growing heavy and hot as his skin began to take on a golden cast, temperature increasing with every moment.

"Queen of Harlots, thank you very much," the Night Mother corrected, idly buffing her nails with complete nonchalance, even as her shadow began to writhe and twist while she positioned her legs to move quickly. The air around seemed to grow darker, as if she were in the shadows despite it being the early afternoon and the sun still beamed strong.

Each of these Servants, part of the same religion but on opposite sides, seemed prepared to throw down, then and there.

A scene of violence seemed imminent.

_Thump_! "Yeow! What are you made of?!"  
_Clap_! "Quit it, Lilith."

Thankfully, their partners were able to pull them up.

The two Servant turned to their respective masters, incredulous, their powers dying down. Leo was shaking out a bruised fist from where he had struck Samson in his side in an attempt to stop. While it worked, it had also injured the teen. The laws of physics basically said if two objects were to clash, the weaker one would take the damage. Leo's fist versus the skin of Servant?

There was no contest, much to the flame-user's regret.

Distracting the Night Mother, however, was less of a task for the child of Aphrodite. A simple clap to draw attention, if only for the moment, was enough.

"If you are quite done with settling your differences?" drawled a certain son of Athena as he poked around the mound of stones with his sword, looking for something, "I would rather we not spend more time frolicking around when we could be moving along," grey eyes stared at the two would be combatants, "time is not exactly on our side at the moment," he frowned slightly, "nor is the destination."

Lilith scoffed slightly, "speak for yourself," she said bitterly, "I am more than sure that the pit of debauchery will welcome me," she scowled slightly, "even if I don't want them to."

Perseus frowned at the comment but stayed his tongue. He didn't truly know enough about Camp Jupiter to comment on that.

Though considering the efforts the gods had gone to in order to ensure that the interaction between the Camps was exactly nil, he wasn't surprised at his lack of knowledge.

After the summoning and introductions between the Servants, another small conference had taken place, part of which had been a recap on the previous night and a summation of events of the previous War to the Servants summoned and the truth of the 'vaunted' Grail.

Needless to say, the newly summoned beings, minus Percy's own, and, to an extent, Daedalus, had been beyond livid and angered. They had come from the Throne on the promise that their wish might be granted and were willing to fight for it, tooth and nail.

To find out that it was not only a monkey's paw but that their wish would have never been granted anyway... It was a bitter pill to swallow.

When they had finally accepted it, though it took a fair amount of convincing, they had all been willing to get on board with the plan and had informed them of the knowledge that the Grail had granted to them.

First, the War would take place with Alaska as the battlefield, which, as they were informed by the rather worried Olympian Council, was a place 'beyond the gods', a place where where divine authority was limited at best, for the Olympians anyway, where they were unable to manifest or influence events, at least not directly. This was rather concerning as it meant that the group would be cut off from whatever allies they had and probably surrounded by enemy forces, due to the high monster population density in the isolated state.

Secondly, it would be, as Perseus had predicted, a seven on seven battle. Red versus Black. Two Servants of each Class would be summoned to create the teams from the chosen Masters.

Two Archers, those who sought to strike down their enemies from a distance, knights of the Bow. Their will often strong enough to become masters of their own destiny.

Two Lancers, warriors of the spear. Keeping their enemies at arms length and striking with speed and agility.

Two Sabers, swordsmen without peer. Declared as the 'most excellent' of Classes with weapons that are often more legendary than their wielder.

Two Riders, mounted fighters. Atop their steeds, many of their foes were mown down before them like wheat before the scythe. So close were they to what they rode, that their own feet carried them just as swiftly.

Two Casters, masters of magic and mysticism long lost. Wizards, witches, warlocks, shamans. All of these and more besides make up this class, their power often enough to crush armies and curse countries into submission.

Two Berserkers, the mad ones, the brutal beast. Warriors who have fallen into madness, trading their wit and reason in return for power

And finally, Two Assassins, killers of the night, shadow and dagger. Faceless and unknown, these were not ones to fight up front. Stealth, cunning and deception are the tools of their trade. More often than not, it is the Master that feels their blade in their back, not the Servant.

Lastly, this would be the Final War. The Grail didn't give the reasons, even if Perseus had his own suspicions, but it had given the impression to the Servants that this would be the 'be all, end all' of Wars. With that in mind, even Heroes from the Throne that would be reluctant or indecisive about answering the summons, but still had a driving desire, would probably be willing to answer the call, knowing that this was their last shot, their last chance.

It was for the last reason that Samson had even answered the summoning. And then he had found out that the Grail War was a complete farce.

Everyone knew that the Nazarite would be on edge for some time to come, and wouldn't hesitate to destroy the Grail if it came into his clutches.

After being informed of that, the Gods had then revealed the reason for the slight delay. The existence of another Camp, home to both half-bloods and legacies, who were decedents of half-bloods.

The catch was...they were Roman.

It turns out that the Roman and Greek pantheons were almost exactly the same, worshipping the same Gods under different names. However, Greeks and Romans were worlds apart, different mind sets, different priorities and beliefs and lifestyles.

When the Heart of the West moved to Rome, the Gods went along with it, as per normal, but found themselves in a place that was very different to their original home, the values of the people that worshipped them radically different. Thus, through the force of human belief, they Changed.

More militaristic, more formal, stricter, harsher. Ares, the wild and brutal warrior, became Mars, the defender and avenger. Hermes, the sly thief, became Mercury, a merchant of the highest order.

Hera, Juno. Artemis, Diana. And so on and so forth.

They all Changed.

They stayed there for quite some time, arguably the longest they had been anywhere save for their native home. But despite the Changes and length of time ruling within that city, they would never shrug off their roots nor abandon their true selves.

Thus began the Schism.

As, at one point in time, the Gods were worshipped in both of their aspects, Roman and Greek, at the same time, these personalities were forced to co-exist within a singular being.

To explain it shortly, it gave the Gods of Olympus MPD, splitting their very core and existence. And it continues to this day.

With these permanent changes in their personalities, as they followed the Heart of the West whenever and wherever it moved, their were consequences for the half-bloods they sired. If the Roman personality was dominant at the time, they became Roman half-bloods, similar to the Greeks but having slightly different characteristics, barely noticeable. If the dominant personality was Greek, a Greek child was sired/born.

If it hadn't gone any further, then that would be that, simply two different Camps made for the different types of half-bloods.

However, Greeks and Romans had never really gotten along. An aspect that was passed onto their children.

Thus battle after battle was fought between those who should have been brothers and sisters.

Throughout history, whenever Roman met Greek, nothing but carnage was left. The corpses of the battle dead left to feed the crows. The most recent conflict was paralleled by the American Civil War, leaving an immense amount of dead, almost wiping out the populations of both camps.

Seeing the carnage and death that was wrought, Zeus/Jupiter made a decision, one that both sides of himself agreed upon.

Using the Mist, the Gods worked together to cloud the minds of their children, forever wiping out the memory of the other Camp. Roman only knew Roman, Greek only Greek.

_Forevermore_, it was declared by the King, _the Camps will remain separated. Let them never know that the other exists._

And thus it was done.

But now was the time for the separation to end.

Perseus was honestly unsurprised that the Gods knew the participants named in the new Great Prophecy, even if they were unsure how it would pan out, despite the curve the more recent prophecy had thrown. They always seemed to be a few steps ahead, a degree of omnipotence going hand in hand with their own divine wisdom and understanding.

From little information they were given, there were three others in Camp Jupiter that were of the Prophecy, each of them no doubt receiving the stigma of the Command Seals of a Master. Hopefully, they would be able to negotiate with them, to make them understand the degree of danger that had arisen.

But first they had to get there.

The Gods were unable to aid them any more than they already had, Ancient Laws chaining and restricting their actions. They would have to make their own way there, and time was against them. Their adversaries were no doubt already in the isolated state of the US, building up forces and preparing for them to arrive.

Perseus would rather they not have more than they already have.

Thankfully, one of their number had an answer to their dilemma.

"Ha!" Cried the Crafter of Life, having found what he had sought after, "found it!"

"Good," Percy spoke, focused and intent on the small hole that the inventor had exposed, falling into a dark pit he was unable to see the bottom of. He remembered finding this pit completely by accident with Annabeth. It felt like so long ago, an age, since they had both found the entrance to the Labyrinth, "do we need to climb down or can we stay up here?"

"We can stay up here," Daedalus assured him, a confident smirk of his bearded lips, "now gather round," he said, urging them all, "this is going to be quite a ride."

Wordlessly, Servant and Summoner gathered around Daedalus.

"Annabeth," the inventor said, looking at her piercingly with his identical grey eyes, "brace yourself."

When his summoner nodded, the arms of her paramour grasping her shoulders, the Servant Caster of Red readied his Noble Phantasm.

Perseus smiled slightly as he watched the old inventor surge with power, the air seeming to electrify at the seeming amount he was gathering. The rest of the summoners watched with awe and the Servants with respect. To see a Noble Phantasm, something that was a symbol of a Heroic Spirit's legend, strikingly similar to Zeus' Master Bolt, his father's Trident and Hades' Helm of Darkness and others in that respect, was a privilege in this day and age, in any day and age.

His finger glowing a bright blue, the Crafter of Life drew three lines in the air, a large vertical triangle. The symbol Delta. It represented the old inventor.

It was also the symbol of...

"**THE LABYRINTH**!" Declared Daedalus, activating his greatest creation, his greatest work that also became his prison.

Perseus didn't flinch as the mark exploded into a bright light, power roaring from it, engulfing them in it's embrace. He merely held on tight to his lover, holding her close as she seemed to sway, as the light twisted, turned, feeling his body begin to spin, to spiral out of control...

Then they were gone.

* * *

Leo Valdez stumbled as the ground suddenly reappeared under him.

"Whoo-," he breathed as he leant against a wall of the cavern the posse were now in, "that was a hell of ride," he grinned maniacally, that trip was a bigger rush than a six pack of Red Bull, not to mention it was _fast_. Speedy Gonzalez, eat your heart out 'cause there is a new speed demon in town. And he's burnin' hot.

"Speak for yourself, boy," growled a pissed off feminine voice, making the son of the forge God feel as though his spine was frozen in terror. Like a rusty wheel, he turned haltingly towards the source. He couldn't help but gulp at the sight, cursing his fast tongue and lack of a brain filter for it.

The one he knew as Lilith, and wasn't that a name, had fallen down, landing on her summoner, chest to chest, in a rather unique position. In addition, it had seemed that both of their clothes had been rumpled and shifted, making for a awe-inspiring and scary sight.

Awe-inspiring, as Assassin's barely existent clothing had popped, the ties of her corset loosened, leaving her magnificent globes of flesh to hang in the air, Piper's crimson face directly between them, too frozen in horror to be able remove herself from the tangle of flesh and cloth.

It looked like something straight out of Playboy or Hustler and made the Mexican teens jeans feel tight and want to loosen his tool belt, just to give himself some breathing room.

Scary, because of the way that the Night Mother **_glared_** at him. He could almost see the punishments she had in store for him for the thoughtless comment he had made. Boiling oil, peeled skin, car crushers. This lady was loco!

Thankfully, he had a plan.

Spinning around so he could no longer see the squirming flesh of girl on girl action, cursing himself as he did so, his finger jabbed out, indicating the rising form of a groaning Caster, "It was all his fault!" He cried, praying fervently to any Gods willing to listen, Greek, Roman or otherwise, that he wouldn't have his flayed skin turned into a whip for her future bedroom escapades.

A rising darkness pervading the air indicated that the woman didn't agree with him.

Before he could find out how it felt to be a masochist, a certain son of Poseidon helped him out. Father bless him!

"Lilith," the unruffled, much to Leo's annoyance, veteran warrior, one that Leo had heard stories of ever since he had arrived in Camp, said calmly, "don't waste your energy. It was a simple comment, there was no malice in it."

Like a man thrown a lifeline, Leo grasped those words with both hands. His saviour had come! "What he said," the Latino said eagerly, bobbing his head like one of those infernal nodding dolls.

Seeing those things drove him nuts. They just wouldn't stop!

"Besides," the son of Poseidon smirked slightly, looking over the Latino's shoulder to the ferocious force of womanly scorn behind him, "shouldn't you be more worried about your Summoner? Unless you wish to do a tantric ritual, here and now, of course."

_Tantric?_, wondered a frozen Leo, frowning slightly, _why does that word seem fami-?_

Before he could finish his thought, he heard choking come from the Servant standing next to Percy, his silver whiskered face hidden behind a hand as uneven gasps of air escaped the old man, his shoulders also hunched as he turned away, obviously trying to hide his amusement much to Leo's confusion.

Was a 'tantric ritual' really that funny?

Evidently it was, as he heard the guffawing of the Big Guy, and boy did he deserve the description, he had summoned, his cheeks flushed red as he laughed from his seat on the hard ground beside him.

Daedalus, and man did he want to pick that guy's brains, his automaton's, or at least the scraps he had seen of them, were absolute genius, was also laughing, well smirking and chuckling, but it was the same thing!

"Men," growled a rather familiar voice, laced with annoyance and embarrassment, followed by the rippling of fabric and displaced air. A blink, and suddenly Leo stumbled back, his own face flushing.

In the time it had taken him to literally blink, Lilith had redressed herself, grabbed her summoner and moved them so they were now directly before their glorious leader.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on the point of view, standing before Percy also meant being directly in front of Leo. Her back turned to the Latino.

It also meant that, because of her sense of style and the way she generally held herself, a panther ready to pounce, her shapely, black panty clad posterior was almost directly in the boy's face.

"Urrrk," he grunted, shocked and with his eyes almost bulging out of his sockets, before he slammed them closed and desperately began to think of anything that could control his libido.

_Baseball, baseball, baseball_, he thought frantically, trying to curb the heat in his blood.

"Where are we?" Questioned a woozy looking Annabeth, looking pale and drained even as she leant on the offered shoulder of Percy for support, her eyes looking around blearily but clearing up more for every second that passed, "did we make it?"

"It seems so," frowned the inventor, stooping slightly to brush away some dirt on the floor, revealing a blue glowing sigil, one identical to the one he had drawn back at Camp, the son of Athena's own symbol, and pressed a rough finger to it, his grey eyes suddenly having the same glow for a moment, "yes," he said, his eyes dimming and his while body relaxing and smiling in relief, "it worked. We are currently in Camp Jupiter. The Field of Mars to be precise. If I'm correct, the main building for the Legion should be south west of here."

"Good," spoke the silver Archer, who's name escaped member of the Valdez family, his mind too preoccupied trying to, simultaneously, burn the image of the beautiful woman's posterior into his mind and completely ignore it, freezing him in place with eyes wide and nose dripping slightly with blood. Holy Olympus was it a hot sight! "let us make haste then. We have tasks to do and little time to do it."

Percy firmly nodded, grasping firmly onto the daughter of Athena, and hoisted her tired frame onto his back, much to her feeble protests. Percy frowned slightly, looking over his shoulder at the girl, "It must have taken a lot out of you," he said with pursed lips, worried and concerned for his friend, partner and paramour.

"It did," Daedalus replied for his still bleary half-sister, his own brow furrowed as he led the way towards the cave entrance onto the Field of Mars, "I honestly had not expected _The Labyrinth _to drain her that much," he admitted, his voice fading as he exited the small cave, disappearing from sight for a moment.

"I'm not weak," Annabeth mumbled, barely heard from her face buried in the shoulder of the son of Poseidon, they too disappeared as the exited the cave, turning almost immediately to follow the curve of what seemed to be a trench, also following Daedalus.

"Warriors," Lilith sighed, making her hind globes bounce a little, the son of Hephaestus' eyes following them unconsciously, "so hot-blooded that their minds are strangled by their muscles," she looked drown at a still frozen Piper, slight concern in her eyes, "Master," she called gently, frowning when she didn't get a response from the Native American girl.

The Night Mother's brow furrowed in thought, thinking of a way to bring the frozen with surprise and shock Piper back to the present. Her crimson orbs suddenly widened before narrowing with a wicked grin.

_SMACK!_

"Yaaaaa!" Piper yelped, her voice bouncing around the cavern, even as she hopped forward, rubbing a now tender part of her body, "what the hell?" She cried in shock, her face redder than ever, and turning to the culprit of the strike, "what was that for!?" She growled at a smugly smiling Assassin.

"You were frozen in shock from our landing, Master," Lilith said innocently, strolling past the scowling figure of McLean, a sensual strut that Leo couldn't stray his mind from. The blue screen of death, caused by the sight of her swinging hips and nearly exposed derrière, freezing his mental faculties. "I just woke you from your stupor."

Piper seemed intent on creating new shades of red, her face flushing even more as her eyes now looked like a kaleidoscope, a spinning wheel of colours, "_By **spanking** me?!_"

Lilith merely giggled as she ducked out of the cave mouth herself, her trailing back even as Piper chased her with a small scowl and reddened cheeks.

With the sight of the fascinating set of pins and globes gone, Leo shook himself from his own stupor, "Ugggh," he groaned as he tried to get his mind back in gear, "I can just tell she is going to be trouble," he said, referring to the Queen of Seduction. She was hot as Hell, possibly literally if he remembered what some of the more religious folk he was forced to stay with before coming to Camp had forced down his throat, but she seemed almost bipolar at times.

His Servant (partner he reminded himself) nodded in agreement, "Women most generally are," he rumbled, tugging gently at his dark locks. He smiled slightly, showing teeth that were too uniform, too even, too perfect, to belong to a human. A subtle difference that Leo had noticed about these ancient Heroes in comparison to the rest. They always seemed too perfect. Like a dream or an ideal given life, "they can be deceptive, cruel, manipulative, something I found out too late, much to my detriment. But they can also be the most kind and generous and giving, much like my own mother," he looked down at the child of the Forge and slapped him firmly on the shoulder, almost knocking him over, "come," he said, walking towards the light, "we have much to do, young one."

Leo Valdez shook his head and quickly caught up with his partner.

* * *

Perseus climbed easily out of the trench, despite the weight of a tired and wearied Annabeth upon his back. He had carried heavier burdens, but never one that was so dear to him.

"How do we want to play this?" He asked the group, as they all gathered, looking around at the Field of Mars. A rocky area full of more trenches and holes. He could also see two forts, stationed at either end of the field. Beyond that, to the south, He could see a massive fort, an encampment, the design screaming Roman, similar to the pictures he had been forced to study in History. In the other direction, he could see what seemed to be a small town. A bit odd for a Camp to have. His eyes narrowed in thought. Very odd. "I doubt they are going to be happy that we had bypassed any defences they might have had, practically appearing in the heart of their home," he snorted slightly, "I know I sure as Hades wouldn't."

"Attract their attention in some form perhaps?" Suggested the looming form of Samson, his dark eyes narrowed in thought, "if one of us," he gestured to the Servants, "were to unleash our power, surely they would sense it? Is this not a military camp for those of _divine_ descent?" The way he spoke showed that he wasn't particularly happy to label them as divine, his belief in YAHWEH making the existence of those claiming divine blood more than a little annoying. However, he was also a realist and not exactly a stupid foolish bigot. Being part of the Throne, surrounded by Heroes of yore, modern demi-gods and the Greek Gods themselves had pretty much knocked that out of him.

He still didn't like it though.

"Not a good idea," spoke Daedalus, his eyes intent on the large encampment, as if he was awaiting something, "To do so would be seen as a challenge, an act of aggression," he smiled wryly, shaking his silvery head, "and there is only one reaction that they would have. Attack. Fight. Kill," he looked at everyone his eyes serious, "Romans have never taken aggression well."

"There is movement at the fort," Archer said abruptly, his body tense now as he looked into the distance with the keen eyes that were apart of his Class, "their warriors are assembling and forming their ranks," he frowned a little as the others also turned their eyes to the construct, attempting to see what Bhishma could, "oddly, they seem to be talking to a bust on a pillar as they form...and it's talking back."

Daedalus grunted, "Thought so," he sighed, "I may be a Heroic Spirit but the powers of a God outstrip mine by a large margin."

"Wait a sec," Leo said, crossing his arms in front of him, "your saying that a _bust_, a piece of head shaped rock, is a _God_?!"

"Terminus," Caster said tersely, "the God of Boundaries. Within his demesne, nothing goes unseen, nor can anything short of a more powerful God cross borders he protects. Not without his knowledge. He was given the task of protecting Camp Jupiter since it's inception."

"So," drawled Assassin, her face unsurprised, "they know that we are here?"

As if in response, the gates of the fort were thrown open, allowing it's occupants, armed to the teeth, to stream out, quickly making there way directly toward them, their spears leading.

It was an impressive and intimidating sight. High crested helms, golden armaments, each warrior falling into step with the one beside them in a show of discipline that was awe-inspiring. At the front, Percy could now clearly see two warriors leading the charge. One boy and one girl judging from his now magic enhanced sight, dressed in armour that seemed slightly different from the rest that was borne by the mass of Legionnaires behind them.

Percy could feel the nervousness of the two less experienced Campers as they fidgeted. They had never seen real battle, were untried, and the sight of a hostile host bearing down on them probably had both thinking some rather morbid thoughts. Had he not remembered those days in Detroit, or experienced those be damned Quests, he might having been having the same ones. Thankfully, he kept his cool, helped by the fact that he had a drained and exhausted girlfriend on his back. He couldn't afford any missteps.

The Servants, on the other hand, looked calm and ready, unconcerned with the approaching horde. Not that Percy could blame them, he knew the power of a Servant, what they could truly bring to bear when pressed. Even the weakest amongst those who now dwelt in the Throne was at least ten times stronger than a regular mortal, and could have torn apart these cohorts, he thought he had the term correct, like wet tissue.

They were, after all, at the foundation of their existence, still alive and thus bound to mortal limits and the trappings of the living.

Servants, Heroic Spirits, on the other hand, were crafted from the fabric of human dreams and imaginations.

And the imagination is limitless.

Perseus hoped that the Romans would not find this out the hard way.

An echoing howl was suddenly heard, drawing his attention away from the approaching Legion and towards the source.

Coming from the other direction, flanking them, were huge greyish blurs that streaked across the Field of Mars, led by a crimson flash, larger than the others, with silver orbs glaring at them as it rushed forward.

"Don't," warned the inventor as they all reached for their weapons or readied themselves for combat, "that is Lupa and her pack. She is to Camp Jupiter as Chiron is to Camp Half-blood. Attack her and all Hell will break loose. If she doesn't kill us first."

"**_I am glad you understand that, intruder,_**" the massive wolf growled as it arrived before them in the next moment, the voice spoken sounding feminine but rough. The wolves, easily exceeding a dozen in number, prowled behind the massive she-wolf, their glaring eyes practically daring any of them to try and escape through their line, " _**though I should just kill you for being here. The fact that you somehow have knowledge of the Greeks**_," she seemed sniff the air, trying to get their scent. Everyone was easily able to see the sudden widening of her canine eyes as she looked the Servants, one by one, her narrowed eyes scrutinising them and there was suddenly caution in her gaze. It didn't show in her words however, "_**Correction, are Greek, just gives me more of a reason**_," her eyes then wandered over to the Servants again "**_Even if you travel in powerful company."_**

Gently placing a wearied and watching Annabeth in the arms of Daedalus, much to her slight protest, Percy then stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Lupa's face when her snarling face, clearly lupine and wild, but her silver eyes containing a hard knowledge and experienced wisdom that came only through a long, long life and experiences within them, snapped around to face him. He was the leader of this group, a first among equals, thus it was right, necessary even, for him to do so. Hopefully he wouldn't stuff it up.

The Legion was close now, a bare hundred yards away, forming into two large groups, each one led by one of the two slightly different warriors he was able to pick out. Commanders and leaders then.

"We come in peace to your home, Mother of Rome," he said firmly, dredging up what little knowledge he had on the she-wolf that had suckled Romulus and Remus. Sadly, in the time that his memories had begun to return to him, when he was reading and investigating old myths and heroes in a desperate attempt to control himself from lashing out, Roman heroes had neglected, his interest not there for them.

Damn Mist. He heavily suspected it was because of the Mist that veiled the Camps from one another that made him uninterested. Something that lead him to be at a disadvantage in his discussions with the over seven foot tall Goddess of Wolves.

"**_I am sure you do,_**" she snorted, "**_after all, many a warrior, backed by a powerful force_**," her eyes flicked again to the Servants, who had joined their summoners in eying the approaching Legion. Fifty yards now. "_**Enters the heart of another's home for mere tea and biscuits**_," she glared at him, her lip lifted in a snarl, "**_I have heard better lies, boy, and never appreciated one of them. The bones of those fools are now chew toys for my children."_**

A rumbling growl from the prowling other members of the pack underscored the statement and reminded him of their presence. He ignored them though, they were of no threat to him even if they all jumped him at once, and kept focused on the she-wolf, " I come here on Quest, Lady Lupa, backed by the Olympian Council. A Prophecy has issued and we are simply following the necessary steps. I repeat, we come here in peace, merely to speak to your leaders. I swear on the River Styx."

Thunder rumbled through the sky, indicating the oath had been accepted and sealed. Lupa's eyes narrowed even more, but a line of tension was lost in the shoulders and haunches even as a small light that could have been called curiosity crept into her eyes. Good, she wasn't going to attack, at least not now, not until she had some answers.

The same couldn't be said for the Legion.

"Intruders!" a female voice called from the front, with glossy black hair in a single braid. Her flashing black eyes pierced his group, warning and wrath entwined. A purple toga and cape, with golden medals, was placed over her armour, similar to blonde-haired and blue haired male that led the other formation in a pincer manoeuvre, trapping them all with the wolves at their backs. At her side ran two greyhounds, one made of gold and one of silver. Automatons if Perseus were any judge, "surrender yourselves or be fired upon!"

Levelled spears and drawn bows underscored the, somehow familiar to Percy, girl's order.

Perseus looked at Lupa, raising an eyebrow. He had given his oath and spoken only the truth, hopefully that had given him some leeway in which to speak. It would all depend on the ancient she-wolf however.

A wolfish smirk and a challenging look was all the answer he was given. Damn it. She just wanted to watch him squirm.

Thankfully they had someone whom had been around the block more times than he cared to count and was easily able to deal with the girl, and the blonde boy who had swiftly joined her, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"Lady Praetor," Daedalus said calmly, walking forward with his hands in clear sight, after having placed a still woozy, but now recovering, Annabeth back on her feet. A clear sign that he had no wish to do any harm, "we apologise for entering your grounds by unorthodox means-"

"You mean sneaking in," the blonde growled. Percy's eyebrows shot up as he saw lightning crackle around the teen, surging in concert with his anger, "like cowards, like assassins."

"-But time constraints are tight, " the inventor continued, ignoring the words of the obviously angered blonde. If Percy's suspicions were correct, then the teenaged leader no doubt had his sire's temperament. Daedalus was now within spear range, placing his chest, his heart, willingly against a spear head as he talked. It made a rather powerful impression on the assembled Romans. Particularly the owner of the spear, the female leader, who now looked oddly uncomfortable. No doubt they rarely met anyone willing enough, foolish enough, to brave their spears, essentially walking to their death.

Well played, Daedalus. Well played.

"We are all currently on Quest," Daedalus gestured to the rest of the group, acting heedless of the spearpoint resting over his heart as he spoke, "a Prophecy drives us and has lead us here, to your home. This is fully backed by the Dii Consentes, the Gods themselves, ask them if you do not believe us."

"No need," a dual toned voice interrupted, as a sudden glow appeared, shining brightly and shifting in shape. Twisting into a humanoid form before revealing itself in a final flash between the inventor and the one he had called a Praetor.

"I will vouch for them, Praetor Reyna, Praetor Jason," spoke the entity, his two heads facing both the Romans and the Greek contingent. Percy knew this God and had met him before, even if the circumstances were far from ideal.

"Lord Janus," the Praetors said respectfully in unison, immediately kneeling, followed immediately by the rest of the Legion behind them, hostilities forgotten in the instinctual respect they granted the Gods.

The Greeks, however, stayed standing, a little confused.

Lupa and her wolves merely sniffed dismissively, keeping an eye on the intruders of their territory.

"Rise," spoke the God to the Romans, waving his hand dismissively, "formalities have their place, but time is of the essence," his eye travelled over the Greeks as the Romans rose to their feet again, landing on the form of Annabeth, "Annabeth Chase," his roamed further, landing on a narrow eyed Perseus, "Perseus Jackson," Percy thought he saw the female Praetor start as the God said their names. As if she recognised them. "It is...interesting to see you once more."

"We certainly were not expecting to see you again either, Lord Janus," Perseus responded calmly, his brow arched in question, "especially considering the circumstances in which we met you." Percy didn't ask any question aloud, but there was certainly a hint of it in his voice.

One that Janus received loud and clear, "Juno asked that I smooth the path a little," the God smiled and grimaced simultaneously, "as a God of Beginnings, Endings and Choices, a symbol of duality, I have a little more freedom in regards to my interactions with demi-gods, wherever they are from."

Percy understood loud and clear. Despite being a god unique to Rome, with no Greek equivalent, his domains allowed him to move rather freely between the children of both of the Pantheons, which placed him in a unique position in regards to the Gods.

"Lord Janus," spoke up the male Praetor hesitantly, unsure of the events unfolding, "what is-?"

"For the duration, this group is under my protection," Lord Janus spoke over the Praetor, a golden eye staring down the leader, "it is the will of the Gods that a Senate meeting take place, post haste. Further information will be given when all are assembled and this group are also in attendance," golden eyes narrowed at Perseus, "on the behalf of your companions, do you so swear to abide by the rules of Camp Jupiter, to initiate no hostile actions except in self defence and to follow all reasonable requests while you are here?"

Percy didn't hesitate. This was a way to prevent the whole situation from spiralling out of control that was given to him on a silver platter. He would be a fool not to take it, "I swear on the Styx."

Thunder rumbled across the sky, shaking and violent, as witness to the oath.

The Romans, though confused themselves, relaxed a bit. Probably thinking along the lines that if a God was taking them under his protection, then they wouldn't be stupid enough to step,out of line and attack their home.

They were right, to a point. It was Percy's own oath and beliefs that held him, not the God. He had defied many in his time and wouldn't hesitate to do so again if necessary.

Janus nodded in approval, before looking at a still gaping Praetor, "Well," the deity snapped, " what are you waiting for? Typhon to escape his prison? Get to it! I will personally take charge of this group."

That got them moving. Within minutes, the Legion was pouring back through the gates of their command post, even as runners were sent to no doubt inform the members of the Senate of an upcoming meeting.

Lupa and her pack growled a little before dispersing themselves. Lupa herself loping off toward the town they had seen.

"Heh," the two-faced God smirked as he watched them move, "still got it."

"Janus," Daedalus frowned, "what in the name of Olympus is going on? I though the Gods could not interfere any longer."

"For the most part they can't," the God of Transition said with a dual nod of agreement, "come," he gestured, "I will take you to the Senate building. You will have to argue your case and convince the Senate to aid you in this Quest."

Percy was quick to follow, as were the rest, as Janus lead them towards the town they saw in the distance. They caught him as he set foot on a paved road that no doubt lead towards their destination.

"However, I could," Janus continued his explanation, his sandals striking firmly on the stones, "mainly due to yourself Perseus," the God noted as if an aside.

Perseus blinked for a moment, tilting his head in question as Annabeth strode beside him.

"Your request at the end of the Titanomachy," the God went on in explanation, "you asked for amnesty for those who had fought on the side of the Titan King, and also ensured that the minor gods got what they most wanted anyway. Thrones with respect and a home for our children," golden eyes touched on the seaborn once again, "that placed a great many of us, the minor gods, in your debt, however unintentionally. Paying off a debt is one of the major rules, one that allows us to bend those Ancient Laws a little. I can't _physically_ aid you, but I can vouch for you so that you have a decent shot. This little favour is just my way of repaying it."

Perseus blinked again. He had honestly never thought that his actions after the Titanomachy would have such consequences. He had only done what he believed was right, to prevent the same thing from cropping up further done the line. He had seen enough senseless slaughter and destruction. He had seen enough blood spilled for the most insignificant of reasons. He had seen enough children, ones who should playing and studying, lead around by the silver tongue of a puppeteer almost without equal, to their deaths like a sheep to the slaughter.

He never wanted to see more.

Nor did anyone else.

The mood was solemn amongst the odd group as they were lead down what they were informed was the Via Praetoria, that was essentially the highway that linked the town of New Rome to The Headquarters of the Legion and Temple Hill, a place where the Gods were honoured. None of them talked, except for Janus who kept up a small commentary on parts of the Camp as they passed them. Percy and the others just let it wash over them, the Servants in particular.

They were heroes from the age of eld, wonders and horrors were more common then. They were able to appreciate the small town, seeing it's own beauty, but they were far from overwhelmed by it. They had seen many similar things during their life, and many even better and more wondrous.

The summoners, however, were more focused on the upcoming uproar that they would no doubt encounter from the Roman Senate rather than listening to the soft, but proud, ramblings of the two-faced god.

They were about to cross into New Rome proper when, with a flash, a new entity appeared.

"No weapons over the Promerian Line," spoke a bust on a pillar, Terminus, the God of Boundaries if Daedalus was correct, "I will have to ask you all to surrender your weapons," fierce eyes looked at the Greek contingent, "especially from _you_."

Percy sighed at stepped forward before anyone could protest. Bigotry seemed alive and well. Hopefully it wouldn't over whelm common sense.

Wordlessly, Perseus showed a pen to the God.

"A magical weapon, old and excellently crafted," the God said, eying it with reluctant approval, "for all that it belongs to you Greeks, it is still a weapon of fine make," the stone at his base opened like a door, "place it in here. It will be returned to you when you cross back over the Promerian Line," he smirked slightly, "that is, _if_ you do so. Alive."

Perseus ignored the baiting at simply gestured for the others to do as he had done.

Leo's tool belt and a pair of battle hammers and both Piper's and Annabeth's daggers joined Riptide within the small space.

Then some difficulties were encountered with the Servants.

"We can not give you our weapons," spoke Archer, his voice soft and calming, "it would be the same as giving someone a part of our soul."

"And I care not, spirit," answered back Terminus, scowling, "No weapons over the Promerian Line, period."

"And I say it cannot be done," insisted Bhishma, "but perhaps this will suffice."

Bhishma glowed briefly, wrapping himself in white light, lasting only a moment. When the light vanished, now longer was the Silver Prince of Oaths in his battle armour, but was instead in silver silk pants and shirt with a set of sandals on his feet.

Daedalus quickly followed, changing into a simple set of jeans and shirt.

More importantly, their weapons were no longer on them.

"Will this meet your requirements, guardian?" Bhishma spoke respectfully. Percy could understand why. The God took his duties seriously and would not let anyone break them and attempt to harm those that he guarded. If it wasn't for his disgust for the Greeks, Percy might have been tempted to give him more respect and honour. Doing ones duty, no matter the hardship, was something he and Archer both respected.

Terminus looked a little shocked, as if seeing something he had never seen before. His eyes suddenly narrowed, looking deeper at the Servants, as if trying to divine their secrets.

"It shall suffice," he grudgingly agreed, "as long as you keep the forms you now have, there should be no quarrel...anymore than there already is anyway. Take note, however, that if you should shift to your previous form, with your weapons intact, I will see it as an act of aggression and will bring my complete might, and that of New Rome, down on your soon to be sorry heads. Is that understood, spirit?"

"Understood," Archer said with a bow, before walking swiftly to catch up with an impatiently waiting Janus as the rest soon followed.

As they walked through the town, whispers could be heard among the townsfolk. Their eyes looked at them with caution (and lust if you take the looks from the boy's that Lilith's voluptuous body and attire drew into account). The universal constant of gossip had obviously got ahead of them.

Percy, ignoring the looks, observed everything he could. This was no summer camp, this a fully functional small city! Shops, cafés, restaurants and homes. He saw families, children, adults. He even saw what might have been a university in the distance, the tall white building standing out, giving off an air of culture, refinement and education. It had him thinking.

Much as he loved camp, despite the rocky road he had travelled with it over the years, it didn't offer a way of life outside of being a summer camp. Often those who tried to make a life outside of camp, a normal mortal life with all the opportunities it offered, didn't succeed well. Either dying in a monster attack or unable to adjust to a world that suddenly seemed so strange to them and returning to Camp. Some did manage it, but they were rare and generally low risk, those who's scent was weak enough for monsters to have trouble picking up, something that Percy would never be able to attain.

He wanted a life outside of camp.

He wanted a home, too greet his children when they returned from school.

He wanted a family.

He wanted a real life.

It was not something that Camp Half-blood could provide.

He would think on such things later. The doors to a grand building, one that seemed to declare power and importance, stood before him.

"This is the Senate House," Janus said, "once you go through these doors, you will be facing the combined political might of Camp Jupiter and New Rome. It will be up to you to convince them of the importance and necessity of your Quest. Fail, and I have no doubt that you will find your death highly sought after," golden eyes met sea green as the God pushed firmly on the large wooden doors, opening them with a groan, the muttering of a hundred voices clearly heard as they did so, "Good luck, Perseus Jackson, you will need it."

Perseus took a deep breath in preparation. It was do or die time. The Quest, the War, the very _World_, rested on him gaining the aid of what could be seen as their ancestral rivals. Rivals that he doubted would hesitate to kill them.

He knew better than to ask 'why me?', that was just tempting the Fates to muck with them.

He walked into the grand chamber, following the God, and the others all followed. A sudden hush going through the room as they did so.

The Senate, at first glance, seemed to be a various mix of races, nationalities and ages, from the late teens up. Dark skin, light skin and tanned skin. Bald, bushy and straight hair. All the Colours of the rainbow were able to be seen in the irises of those who sat in the seats above. However, there was something they all had in common, that spanned beyond the borders of the flesh.

All of their faces were grim and implacable, serious and stoic. These people were all, or had been, warriors, for the most part. There were a few here and there that Percy could clearly see had little in the way of training with armaments, nor did they hold themselves quite the same way. But that didn't really matter.

These were warriors, and they looked like they didn't really like what they saw in them.

Well, damn.

Each of the Senators, he presumed, were seated on long stone rows, looking down onto the marble floor where the Greeks stood. Behind the top most row, there floated spectral beings, that felt like either little gods, if such a term could be applied to any divine being, or strong spirits, each of them looking like they wanted to sneer at each and every one of them, but, unsurprisingly, were instead focused on the materialised Servants, looks of caution, wariness and even a small amount of fear in their faces. They had obviously sensed the sheer power that they had and were disturbed by it.

Good. If push came to shove, and he hoped it didn't, he could use that. Though it would be a real underhanded move to use it the way he planned to if necessary.

However, what was in front of him had more of his attention.

The stone rows filled either side of the long chamber, opposite each other. The entrance to the chamber, though, faced two large stone seats on a raised slab of stone.

Each of the Praetors were seated there, looking at them carefully. Judging them.

"Praetors of Rome," Janus spoke, his voice calm and normal but carrying to everyone in the chamber, "Senate of Rome. On behalf of the Gods, your obeisance to our requests is commended and thanked."

"A order from the Gods is not something to take lightly, Lord Janus," responded the blond haired teen on his stone seat with a seated bow.

"True," nodded Janus, before he continued on, "at this very moment, a crisis is afoot amongst us. The Prophecy of Seven is now in effect."

The quiet from the Senators was broken into quiet mumbles of surprise and shock. Even the Praetors looked a little stunned. Obviously they were not expecting that.

"The four demi-gods behind me," the god waved, pointing them out in rapid succession, "are part of the Seven. I will ask that you keep that in mind as their spokesman speaks," Janus turned to Perseus, golden eyes met green once more, "I introduce you to Perseus Jackson, Son of Poseidon and Saviour of Olympus," the god declared stepping aside.

There was quiet in the chamber as Perseus stepped forward, his face in a grimace.

_Three_, he counted off, waiting for the reaction, _two, one.._.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Graeci!" Roared one of the spirits floating above, his voice echoing in the chamber, setting off the rest into a frenzy.

Perseus held his head in his hands as he awaited for order to be restored, rubbing his temples in order to relieve what stress he had built up.

It was going to be a long day

* * *

Lupa couldn't help but frown as she saw the Greek warrior stand alone before three of her legionnaires, preparing them for what had to be done.

She had watched as, after the uproar she expected her Romans to create upon realising what the boy was, the boy had managed to calm them down.

If he only hadn't done so the way he did, she may have been more respectful of him.

When it seemed the uproar would never end, the sneaky God Janus merely watching from the sidelines as accusations and slander was thrown around the Senate like spears in flight, the boy had responded.

She had sensed a flare of power, reeking with the scent of a turbulent sea, before she had felt like she was being crushed, slamming flat on her belly and unable to move with a crash.

As were the senators, practically folded in half on their stone pews, and the Praetors, locked down in their seats under the unknown pressure, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Even the Lars were not left untouched, slamming to the marble floor and making deep impressions and craters.

In a single moment, this child of Poseidon had rendered the entirety of the Senate helpless, frozen.

Vulnerable.

And the Greeks were untouched.

They were at the mercy of someone, dependent on their decisions for their own lives, unable to fight back. It made her furious, her energy flaring high in order to fight the foul spell.

Only for it to be all for naught.

Then they were released.

The pressure abruptly vanished. Disappearing as if had never existed.

_'Now that I have your attention,'_ the boy had spoken, emerald energy wreathing him like flames as his hardened eyes caught their own, '_perhaps we can discuss this in a more civilised manner?'_

Even as he had asked the question, everyone saw the energy flare threateningly and the air seem to thicken again. The message had been clear, 'shut up and listen or be squashed.'

Still angered and raging inwardly, they had not been foolish. They stayed quiet and listened to the words of the Greek.

That anger had vanished beneath the complete shock of the revelations that he had given them.

Death matches that had the possibility of destroying whole cities, holy, or rather unholy, Grails that had the potential to reshape the world, past, present and future, the Throne of Heroes, a place where the famed and gloried reside, a place that made the Mother of Rome wonder if any of her protégés had attained such a hallowed position. By comparison, the existence of other Pantheons, outside of the obvious Greeks, had been easy to swallow. The fact that Romans had adopted some of the more militant deities of other Pantheons, Epona from the Celts and Mithras from the Persians being noted examples, had helped that a great deal.

All of these things were spoken of, and proven with the vouching of Janus, the oath of the boy and the marks that Jason Grace, Praetor of the Legion, had revealed, glowing a stark scarlet upon the back of his hand.

In the face of all the evidence, despite the efforts of some of the more fanatic of officials, the Camp's Augur Octavian in particular, his almost crazed features and sneering voice trying to whip his countrymen into a frenzy that was only curtailed by Lupa's command of silence, the Senate had no choice but to accept the truth, despite the bitter pill it was to swallow that the Prophecy of Seven, that had been in the hands of Rome for _millennia_ compared to the Greek's less than a year, would not just be fulfilled by the Legion.

Cooler heads had prevailed, thank the Gods, and the other two that had been marked by the foul cup, and Lupa completely agreed with the sea spawn's description of it (Discipline and harshness may be part of Rome but, despite the propaganda of other kingdoms, outright cruelty and sadism hadn't been), had been quickly assembled, joining Jason Grace, one of her finest, on the floor of the Senate.

One of the newly called for was Hazel Levesque, an African American girl child who was new to the legion. A daughter of Pluto, she exhibited a surprising absence of the trait that they were known for, the insanity that seemed to infest the line like a plague. She seemed unsure of herself, but was a good fighter and excellent horsewoman, wielding a spatha as if she were born to it. Her golden eyes often seemed to freeze, her mind wandering down unknown paths, leaving her vulnerable to attacks, but they were slowly starting to come further and further apart, her absent memories also returning to her. In addition, her geokinesis, compliments of her sire, was extremely powerful, able to even summon gold and gems from the earth, a rare gift among her brothers and sisters long past, though it was tempered by a curse that none were able to find the origin of.

The other marked legionnaire, a baby cheeked Asian youth named Frank Zhang, was an interesting case. A recently claimed child of Mars, he looked little like his brothers and sisters, lacking the height and solid muscle that bulged from them. Not to say he wasn't strong, but he wasn't quite touching the children of war. Additionally, he favoured use of the bow instead of the melee weapons that they generally wielded. Another thing about him was his legacy talent, born from his ancestor's sire, Poseidon, not that any in Camp Jupiter save herself and the Praetors knew. He was able to shapeshift into any animal or monster that he so desired. Monkey, gorilla, giant eagle, dragon and hundreds of others. It was a unique, one that made him stand out, and not in the best of ways.

Alongside their Praetor, Jason Grace, a name that had the grey eyed girl, no doubt a daughter of Athena/Minerva and one that Lupa would watch closely while she was in this Camp, even if under truce (those of that line always caused trouble), and the son of Poseidon snapping toward him, inspecting him and looking for something, before returning to their normal posture with frowns of thought, these were two legionnaires were chosen by the fetid Grail for this War, part of the Seven on Quest.

And now it was time for them to summon their Servants, a concept that still made the old she-wolf reel. To be able to call and bind powerful spirits to their bidding, granted that they were only copies of the true spirit and was only possible due to the Grail itself, was not something she had ever expected to see.

The boy, Perseus, had exerted his power again, crafting what he called the ritual circles in an uttering of three words, carving them directly into the floor of the Senate house with only his power.

Considering that the Senate house was crafted from fine materials and enchanted with spells to prevent damage such as this, it had been a further hackle-raising experience for the Mother of Rome.

Just how strong was this warrior? What were the true extent of his powers?

She had no doubt similar thoughts were going through the minds of the Senators.

"As you chant the words after me," Perseus instructed to his listening temporary pupils, "channel your demi-god powers as your do so. This will act as a medium for your inborn magic, the gifts of your sires, to power the ritual. Do you understand?"

Perseus was met with three nods, one nervous, one uncertain and the other stoic.

"Good," he nodded, "when your ready, place your hand in the circle and we can begin."  
Lupa watched as her pupils, her cubs, each dropped to a knee and placed a hand inside the strange design before each of them, without hesitation.

Brave Romans, all of them.

"Summon your gifts," Perseus instructed, waiting patiently.

A moment passed, and then the air was filled with the scent of ozone, lightning dancing and crackling around the form of Jason Grace as he called upon his power as the son of Jupiter.

Around the kneeling form of Hazel, the sounds of the earth groaning was heard. The floor beginning to sparkle as fragments of gold and jewels were born out of the womb of the earth. Shadows around her also shifted and writhed like serpents.

Frank's was more subtle, but all the more bizarre. The arm and hand he had thrust into the center of the circle shifted and writhed. The paw of lion, the leg of a buffalo, then a monkey's hand, then an eagle's wing. His arm kept shifting shape, his brow creased in concentration as the rest of his body remained unmoved.

They were ready.

"Now repeat," Perseus said, making the rest of the Senator's lean forward in curiosity and fascination, even the Augur, who's hateful glare had yet to abate towards the Greeks.

"**I command thee..**" He intoned and was repeated by her legionnaires.

"**Thou shalt come forth to my side;  
Thy sword shalt control my fate."**

The scent of power in the air began to gather, grow stronger, as if a giant were approaching, casting it's shadow on all in it's path.

"**Abiding by the Holy Grail's haven,  
If thou accedest to this will and reason,  
then answer me."**

The power grew even further, the repeated words echoing around the chamber like a ghostly chorus.

"**The oath set forth here.  
I am the embodiment of good in the eternal world.  
I am the disposer of evil in the eternal world.**"

The presence grew closer as the power also grew. Lupa's divine eyes and connection to,the world could feel something sit up and take notice, treading towards them along the metaphysical paths that stretched across the world.

Something was answering the summoning, but no one knew what.

"**Open the Gate. Shut(fill), Shut(fill), Shut(fill), Shut(fill), Shut(fill).  
Thee, the seven heavens that bear the great trinity."**

The power in the air was now crushing, forcing everyone back as the circles lit up in a crimson glow, flaring with power. The summoners, however, stayed kneeled, unmoved. As did the child of Poseidon.

"**Come forth from the circle of constraint...  
... O Guardian of the balance!"**

A flash of power blinded the she-wolf, making her close her eyes in surprise and slight pain, as the ritual was completed.

Before she could recover, she was almost bowled over by the sheer power she now felt. Three seperate sources, each of them of comparable to the Servants she had already encountered, even if she knew not their identities.

One of the new ones, however, felt familiar in a way she couldn't quite pin down. She scented the air, her eyes still recovering from the last flash, trying to catch that strangely familiar scent of power. It smelt like one of her pups, a half-blood though vastly more powerful, oddly enough, though the heritage she could somehow divine from that scent indicated that the mother was the divine parent.

A child of Venus had ascended to this vaunted Throne of Heroes?! She could count on two paws the number of such children she had trained that could even have a chance at glory within the Legion, let alone ascend to the heights that Perseus indicated would be needed to get to the Throne.

That drew her curiosity more than anything else, and made her quite happy that a Roman was also summoned as a Servant to balance out the one she knew as Daedalus.

Her vision slowly came back, focusing on the shadows standing in front of her pups.

* * *

In front of the child of Mars, a large man, deeply tanned like the natives of the Pacific Islands, covered in tribal tattoos stood, a large fishing spear in hand as he smiled down at the staring boy. His black hair was tied to a neat top-knot and wore little in the way of clothing. A set of leather bracers on his forearms and a grass skirt that went to his knees.

"Heya Keiki," the tall islander greeted with a laugh, "as Lancer of Red, are you my Master?"

The son of Mars just stared.

* * *

Before the Praetor was a tall man, in his hand was grasped a shepherd's crook made of steel and steel sandals shod his feet even as simple shepherd's robes clad him, save for a golden armlet inscribed with a cross on his left arm. There was an air about him, a solid presence like a wall the enemy would through themselves at and break upon, like waves upon the shore.

Dark hair and vivid green eyes looked down on the son of Jupiter.

"I am Saber of Red," the Servant intoned gravely, "I ask of you: are you my Master?"

* * *

Hazel stared up at the regal man that clutched a horsehair crested helm in the crook of his arm. She could help but blush as his handsome face, topped with auburn hair, looked down at her with blue eyes. His pale blue cloak wrapped around him, slightly hiding the metal cuirass, of steel or bronze, and the studded leather battle skirt and leather sandals.

His face was familiar to the daughter of Pluto, seen in scene after scene in old paintings.

"Summoned as Rider of Red," intoned the forefather of Rome, the survivor of the sacking of Troy at the command of the Gods, "I ask of you: are you my Master?"

In such shock and awe, Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto, could do nothing but stare at the legendary warrior, Aeneas, the son of Venus, the Founder of the Roman people.

Hazel could nothing but squeak in response.

* * *

Author Notes: Well, I hoped you liked this chapter. I know it didn't have much action in it but it was necessary to set the scene and finish up the tedious summoning part. The next chapter will see the some action and conflict as the first small skirmish of the war. But that won't be for a while as I have to catch up on my other stories first.

**Noble Phantasms**

Caster of Red

**The Labyrinth**: _The Ever Shifting Maze_  
Anti-Army  
A  
The Greatest Work of Daedalus. A place of stone under the earth created to be a prison for the Minotaur under the order of King Minos of Crete. Has since moved with the Heart of the West to expand beneath the earth.

This Noble Phantasm can function as a Temple from where Daedalus can create his various inventions. It can be brought into being by Daedalus inscribing a Delta symbol into a surface and infusing it with his power. If necessary, he can even create a temporary one in mid-air. He can keep creating those sigils which then link up with all previous ones made, creating a network of tunnels located in a side dimension, slight removed from reality, beneath the earth.

The Labyrinth carries with it the concept of 'Distortion'. Within it's confines, people, whether they be allies or enemies, are rendered confused and become easily lost, and can even be driven mad if the 'Distortion' takes a firm enough hold of their mind. In addition, Daedalus can twist the concept of time and space within it, enabling him to teleport himself or others between sigils in the outside world or anywhere within the Labyrinth. The time aspect allows him to either slow down or speed up time, granting him more time within it's confines to create his inventions or to even affect the senses if the enemy, slowing their reflexes to a crawl.

However, the greater the difference between outside time and Labyrinth time, the more power that is needed to do so. Also, while the Labyrinth has greater affects on those of mixed birth, (anyone with blood that is not human like a demigod, changeling or other such being), pure human Servants have a resistance to it's twisted effects and immunity if they have a strong enough mental defence skills. Also, if the sigils are found, anyone can use it to enter the Labyrinth if they channel power into the sigil, but will immediately alert Daedalus of their presence as, within it's confines, he can be considered all-knowing, even if he isn't all powerful.

Servants

Class: Rider of Red  
Name: Aeneas  
Title: The Blood of the Empire  
Master: Hazel Levesque

*Stats:  
STR B  
AGL A+  
END C  
MAG B  
LCK A+  
NP A++

*Due to being summoned in what could be considered the Roman Empire and summoned by a Roman, Rider's stats are boosted by a massive amount.

Class Skills

Riding: A  
Able to ride anything including Divine Beasts but not including Dragon-Kind.

Magic Resistance: B  
Cancel spells with a chant below three verses. Even if targeted by High-Thaumaturgy and Greater Rituals, it is difficult for him to be affected.

Personal Skills:

Divinity: A  
Was born a son of Venus and became a god after his death.

Charisma: B+  
Suitable for a King of a country. Further boosted due to his divine blood from Venus.

Golden Bough: n/a  
Functions as Revelation and increases ones luck when feat of arms are possible.

Class: Caster of Red  
Name: Lilith  
Title: The Night Mother  
Master: Piper McLean

Stats:  
STR C  
AGL B  
END C  
MAG A+  
LCK B  
NP A

Class Skills

Presence Concealment: B+  
Gets stronger at night.

Personal Skills

Double Summon: n/a  
Allows a Servant to attain Class Skills from two different classes. In this case, she has obtained the Skills of both Assassin and Caster.

Item Creation: C  
Able to create amulets of protection.

Territory Creation: C  
Her way of life did not lend itself to settling down to create a workshop. However, she is able to create a safe haven where her magic is stronger.

Dark Birth: A  
As a creature of the night, she receives a boost in power when it is dark. Rank up to all Parameters except Luck.

Monstrous Strength: A++  
By drawing on her belief as a Monster, she can receive bonuses to her Strength parameter. At night, she can attain A+ Strength. It is A if used during the day.

Seduction: A  
The ability to convert emotions into prana. In this case, everyone gives off an emotional aura. Assassin is able to interact with that aura and 'devour' the emotion and convert it into prana to use if she so chooses, Immediately or for later. It also acts a Mystical Body of Charm skill, allowing her body to be seen as the most attractive to the beholder, which then provokes an emotional response. Can be defended against by either a powerful mental protection skill or divine protection.

Nature of a Rebellious Spirit: A  
She was cast out by God for not agreeing to bow to a man's commands. If a God could not command her, who can?

Class: Berserker of Red  
Name: Samson  
Title: Wrathbringer of God  
Master: Leo Valdez

Stats:  
STR A+  
AGL C  
END B  
MAG C  
LCK C  
NP B

Class Skills

Mad Enhancement: B  
Rank up to all parameters but takes away most of his sanity.

Personal Skills

Instinct: B

Protection of the Faith: A  
Sealed under Mad Enhancement.

Eye of the Mind (False): B

Class: Lancer of Red  
Name: Maui  
Title: The Raiser of Islands  
Master: Frank Zhang

Stats:  
STR A+  
AGL A  
END B  
MAG B  
LCK C  
NP A+

Class Skills

Magical Resistance: B

Personal Skills:

Divinity: B  
Son of the Goddess Hina

Shapeshift: C  
Able to shift his shape into that of animals. Generally birds or fish.

Shamanism: B  
An ancient practice of magic involving communion with and manipulation of the elements. He has been noted as using the elements in his various adventures.

Enchantment: C+  
Is able to increase the power and efficiency of an object, making it able to wound a spirit. It also allows him to wield it with a greater degree of skill than he should. He was known to improve others designs rather than create his own.

Class: Saber of Red  
Name: David of Sassoun  
Title: The Seventh Generation Hero  
Master: Jason Grace

Stats:  
STR A+  
AGL B  
END A  
MAG C  
LCK C  
NP A++

Class Skills

Magic Resistance: B

Riding: A  
High enough to qualify for the Rider Class

Personal Skills

Battle Continuation: A  
Can still keep fighting even with deadly wounds until a decisive killing blow is struck.

Bravery: B  
Has stood against whole armies in order to fight, alone.

Changeling: B  
A term used to describe a human with blood that is not of humanity. He was born of Armaghan, a Fae, and Mher, descendent of Sasanar who was born of water swallowed by his mother. Benefits that are ascribed are dependent on the individual. In this case, he has attributes of both Earth and Water.


End file.
